


Beautiful Little Fool

by lyricalballads



Series: Beautiful Little Fool [1]
Category: The Mummy (1999), The Mummy Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - The Great Gatsby Fusion, Drama, F/M, Multi, Parties, based on The Great Gatsby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:28:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 21
Words: 39,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26305600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyricalballads/pseuds/lyricalballads
Summary: Rick O'Connell moves in next door to Jonathan Carnahan, who throws parties at his mansion in the hopes of winning back Lucy Hamilton, the woman he loved and lost five years before. Except Lucy is already married to a despicable man. Marriage vows can be broken, but you can't repeat the past.
Relationships: Beni Gabor/Original Female Character(s), Evy Carnahan O'Connell/Rick O'Connell, Isaac Henderson/Original Female Character(s), Jonathan Carnahan/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Beautiful Little Fool [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1911808
Kudos: 3





	1. The bright girl of yesterday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally posted on fanfiction.net from 12/10/2012 to 04/07/2013.
> 
> The plot is based on the novel by F. Scott Fitzgerald.

A letter had been delivered to Rick on that dry summer morning. A letter from Lucy Hamilton, though she was Hamilton no longer, penned in a delicate feminine hand that reminded Rick of midnight parties from long ago. _Come visit us_ , Lucy implored through the paper. _We're dying to see you!_ And Rick couldn't refuse, though his eyes kept straying to those little words like "us" and "we" that appeared throughout the letter but were never elaborated upon. Lucy never mentioned her husband by name, but his presence was everywhere in that letter, lurking in the silence of unspoken words.

The dry morning had turned to an equally dry afternoon, with the monotonously hot, cloudless weather that only a country like Egypt could produce day after day. Rick still had that little paper with the delicate handwriting, for it was tucked into his pocket as he drove through Cairo's streets in his old, noisy car, and he briefly pulled out the letter to read the address Lucy had written down. The address where _they_ resided, waiting for Rick to drop in for a much-belated visit. He still couldn't believe that bright, carefree Lucy Hamilton had gotten married. He found it even harder to believe that she had chosen the man she now called her husband.

Rick drove into a neighborhood that contained churches instead of mosques and shops instead of market stalls. The kind of neighborhood populated by the western elite, who had no problem hiring Arabs as servants but refused to mingle with them on a social level. The kind of neighborhood that tried to ignore the fact that its occupants lived in a foreign country whose civilization had existed long before their first kings and queens were born. Rick didn't care for the type of people who inhabited these neighborhoods, but Lucy had always been different. She had a certain compelling charm that drew people in, regardless of class.

She lived in a large white house with enormous front windows, though all of the curtains had been tightly shut, and Rick felt like an intruder as his old car rumbled up the drive, emitting smoke out the back end. The streets were quieter in this part of town, as if waiting for permission to speak, and Rick quickly parked his car in front of the house, reminding himself that he was paying this visit for Lucy's sake. He had never been able to refuse her anything.

He rang the doorbell and Lucy herself came bounding up to meet him only moments later, looking so much like the bright girl of yesterday that Rick immediately remembered why half the men in Cairo, himself included, had fancied themselves in love with her.

"Oh, Rick!" Lucy exclaimed, throwing the door open wide. "It's been too long. Where have you been keeping yourself all this time?"

Rick strode through the front door, remembering just in time to wipe his feet on the doormat. "You know," he said with a shrug. "Everywhere."

"Everywhere?" Lucy echoed. "How exciting! You'll have to tell us all about it."

Rick had only been back in Cairo for a week, but it felt like his two years of traveling the world had never taken place, for Lucy looked the same as ever with her rich, brown hair that framed a pale, slender face, her clear blue-green eyes, and the same red lipstick she always wore. He had been in Marrakesh in the fall of 1924, when her unexpected wedding took place, and as he looked into her face he tried to figure out what induced that free spirit to tie herself down to this nice white house in this nice white neighborhood.

"You look good, Lucy," he remarked, watching her eyes sparkle in spite of the curtains that blocked out the sun.

"Oh, don't flatter me," she said, giving him a playful swat on the arm. "I hope you like iced tea. It's really too hot for anything else. _Darling!_ " she called out as she led Rick through the spacious front entryway, to an equally spacious room at the back of the house. "Rick is here. He's been everywhere, he says!"

She addressed the man who lounged on an expensive sofa with a bottle in his hand. He looked out of place in the clean, fresh white house, like he had stumbled into the room by mistake, and he took a greedy swig from his bottle before offering Rick a smirk and a half-hearted hello. He wore a suit of clothes much finer than the old rags he used to wear before Rick began his travels, but he looked uncomfortable, like a little boy forced to attend church in his Sunday best when he would rather be outdoors in his play clothes. His old scraggly haircut had disappeared, replaced with a neat trim that did little to improve his looks, though he had kept the tiny line above his upper lip that served as a mustache.

Beni Gabor should have been flourishing, given the circumstances, but he still looked shifty and underfed. He still looked like the pathetic street rat he had been the last time Rick saw him.

"O'Connell," he said in a tone of undeserved superiority. "How do you like my humble home?"

Rick knew the house wasn't actually his. The house belonged to Lucy, paid for with Lucy's money, but Beni was always in a better mood when people humored him. "It's... _big_ ," said Rick, struggling for words. "You're a lucky guy."

"Darling, what are you drinking?" Lucy cut in, staring at the bottle clutched in Beni's hand.

"Vodka," said Beni.

"At one in the afternoon? How silly! Put that away and have some iced tea with me and Rick."

Beni stubbornly held onto his bottle. "I don't like iced tea."

Lucy turned her radiant face upon Rick, a strained little smile on her lips. "Oh, isn't he funny? Imagine not liking iced tea!"

"Yeah," said Rick. "Real funny."

"Tell us about yourself," Lucy begged Rick as she sat herself down on a chair and crossed one slender, stocking-clad leg over the other. "Did you see Paris at all? I've always wanted to see Paris."

"Paris is not so great," said Beni. "It is full of people who drink coffee all day and think they are artists."

"I'm sure that isn't true. Is it, Rick?" said Lucy.

"I wouldn't know," Rick admitted. "I never made it to Paris."

"What a pity! Did you see Rome, at least? You can't travel the world without seeing Rome."

Rick did manage to see Rome and answered Lucy's never-ending questions, while the housekeeper brought iced tea and Beni stared darkly into the depths of his bottle, making snide little remarks that Lucy dismissed with a laugh and a lighthearted excuse, as if Beni's bad manners were nothing more than a poorly planned comedy routine. At last Lucy changed the subject with the speed and delicacy of a hummingbird darting from flower to flower, gazing at Rick with the forced gaiety of a woman who was determined to be cheerful or die.

"Did anyone tell you we have a little boy?" she said eagerly. "You really ought to see the baby, Rick. He's a dear when he's asleep."

"Thank God, Allah, and Buddha he is asleep," Beni muttered.

Rick didn't get a chance to comment on the matter, for he was whisked away to the upstairs nursery where a dark-haired baby slumbered all alone. "What's his name?" Rick asked.

"Gabriel. Gabriel Gabor. Isn't that a fun sounding name?" said Lucy. "I do love alliteration. He had his first birthday in March."

 _March._ Lucy had her wedding in October and Rick was no genius, but he could do the math.

"It's too bad he looks like his father," Lucy added with a high, rather shrill, little laugh. "But you can't have everything, I suppose."

"Are you happy with him?" Rick asked quietly.

"Who, the baby?"

"Beni. Are you happy with him?"

"Sometimes I like him and sometimes I don't. Isn't that how all married people feel?"

Rick didn't know, having never been married himself, but he didn't like Lucy's response. He didn't like the way she kept smiling and sparkling, pretending that everything was perfect. "Why Beni?" he dared to ask. What was such a lovely girl doing with a rat like him?

Lucy looked as if she might give him an answer, but Gabriel woke up and immediately began wailing. "Oh, dear," said Lucy. "I'll have to get the nursemaid. She'll know what to do."

The nursemaid quickly arrived and Lucy took Rick out into the hallway, where she leaned against the wall with a calmness that was startling after her endless bout of cheer. "Gabriel was born five months after the wedding," she said solemnly, the light gone from her blue-green gaze. "But you figured that out, didn't you?"

"Didn't want to mention it," said Rick.

"Well I don't mind telling you. I suppose I could have found some poor fool to give the baby his last name, but Beni _is_ Gabriel's father, and well... I needed a ring and Beni wanted to be rich, so it worked out well for both of us."

"Sounds like a great deal," Rick muttered.

"But how did we end up talking about _me_?" Lucy said, as if Rick hadn't spoken. Her eyes brightened once more and she transformed from tired wife to glittering girl. "How do you like being back in Egypt?"

"It's... different," Rick said as she took his arm and led him back downstairs. "I'm renting this house from a friend of mine, and it's next to a mansion. I mean, the place must be ten times the size of my house."

" _Ooh_ ," Lucy gasped. "A mansion! Sounds delightful."

"It's kind of strange. I've never seen the guy who lives there, but everyone says he throws parties all the time. I think his name is Carnahan or something—"

"Carnahan?" Lucy interrupted. The bright eyes became brighter, almost feverishly so, and she clutched Rick's arm so tightly that it hurt. "Is he from England?"

"I don't know. I guess he could be."

"It's just, well... the name sounded familiar, is all. I think my family once knew a set of Carnahans, but that's all ancient history." They reached the bottom of the stairs and Lucy took a quick peek into the back room. "Beni must have slipped outside. He doesn't like to hear Gabriel cry. He doesn't like it when the sun shines into the house either, so we keep all the curtains closed."

"Doesn't like much, does he?" said Rick.

"Oh, well you know how he is. He's very particular."

Particular was not how Rick would describe Beni, but he couldn't argue with Lucy, since Beni himself came skulking back in with a lit cigarette dangling from his lips. He plucked the cigarette from his mouth and sent a little glare in Lucy's direction. "Shouldn't you be taking care of your baby?" he asked.

"Agnes is with him," said Lucy.

"Why did you bother to have him if you can't even get him to be quiet?"

"Darling, we're going to bore our guest with all this ridiculous talk," Lucy said with a laugh. "Why don't you show Rick around the house? You'd like that, wouldn't you, Rick? You two can catch up on old times!"

"Yes, let me show you the house," said Beni, smirking at Rick. "It is probably much nicer than what you are used to."

"Go on, dear." Lucy gave Rick a gentle shove in Beni's direction, laughing all the while, and Rick couldn't refuse her on that dry summer afternoon.

He could never refuse her anything, even when she was Lucy Gabor instead of Hamilton.


	2. Wealthy dissatisfaction

Despite his apparent smugness over his recent prosperity, Beni only gave Rick a brief tour of the house and took to grumbling instead of gloating by the time he reached the second floor. It all cost too much, according to Beni. The house cost too much, the furniture cost too much, _everything_ cost too much, and it wasn't fair that a rich man like himself had to waste all of his money just to be comfortable. His spirits began to lift when he led Rick outside and onto the front drive, where Rick's run-down car sat beneath the sun, growing more faded by the minute, and he gazed upon the old vehicle with a wicked sort of delight.

"Nice car, O'Connell," Beni said with a sneer. "How old is that thing?"

"It's a 1912 model," said Rick. "Still runs pretty good."

Beni let out a mocking little laugh and tossed aside his cigarette, which he had smoked down to nothing. He pulled out a new one and didn't offer any to Rick. "It is too bad that _you_ didn't marry Lucy, my friend. Then you would not be driving that piece of shit you call a car." He laughed again and lit up his cigarette.

"Why'd you marry her, anyway?" said Rick. "You used to say you'd never get married."

"Yes, but Lucy is rich," said Beni, as if the answer was obvious. "And she has always liked me."

"Didn't realize you guys were so close."

"Oh, yes. She spent a lot of time with me when nobody was looking. But then she got knocked up and so I married her, because she's rich, and the only wife worth having is a wife with money."

Beni hadn't changed at all in two years. Though he wore a nice suit of clothes and lived in a fancy house, he was still the greedy little thief who used to get tossed out of bars because he was always picking someone's pocket or cheating at card games. Money and power couldn't change him because he could never be satisfied, always thinking he didn't have enough. Beni was born to think like a poor man and would think like a poor man until he died.

"It is too hot out here," Beni complained, scowling at a bright patch of sky where a pathetic wisp of cloud had formed. "Let's go into the garage and I will show you a _real_ car."

His car turned out to be an elegant roadster that matched Beni's nice clothes and haircut, but didn't match Beni himself. Rick watched Beni climb into the driver's seat and thought he looked like an accomplished thief who had raided a rich man's garage, rather than the owner of such a fine vehicle, and managed to give the usual empty compliments that Beni expected to hear.

"Where'd you find a car like this?" he asked, unable to help admiring the fancy interior.

"Lucy gave it to me last Christmas," said Beni. "But of course she paid too much for it. They always charge too much for cars like these."

"Well it's not like you guys are broke or anything," said Rick. "Most wives don't go around buying their husbands cars for Christmas."

Beni scoffed at that. "She still paid too much. But she is a pretty good wife, though wives are not much fun after a while, and it is boring to be in that house all the time." He smirked around the cigarette he placed between his lips. "I've got this woman I met a few months ago. She will fool around with anyone, and her husband never suspects a thing. She says he's as dumb as a... what is that expression you Americans use?"

"Dumb as a post," said Rick.

"Yes, that's it. She says he's as dumb as a post."

"What about Lucy?" said Rick, a harder edge to his voice. "She know about this woman of yours?"

Beni laughed so hard, he was in danger of swallowing his cigarette. "Of course Lucy knows about her," he replied, his eyes glinting wickedly. "Lucy hates it that anyone would neglect her for another woman. She is extremely vain."

Rick didn't bother with a reply. He felt uncomfortable standing in that garage, watching Beni sit in the driver's seat of his roadster and brag about his mistress. Rick wasn't impressed with the car anymore and he wasn't impressed with the mistress either; rather, he was sorry that Beni had bought into the popular conception that all rich men drove fast cars and slept with women who weren't their wives.

"Look, uh, it's been great seeing you and Lucy again, but it's getting kind of late," said Rick.

"And we would hate for you to overstay your welcome," Beni said with another one of his mocking smiles.

"Yeah. Anyway, I'm gonna say goodbye to Lucy and hit the road."

"What do you think of Lucy?" Beni asked suddenly. His eyes grew sharp as he stared at Rick.

"I like her," Rick said honestly. "I've always liked her. She's a fun girl."

The sharpness left Beni's eyes as suddenly as it came, and his grin was bitter. "Yes, but the fun girls are no different from ordinary women. That is what you learn when you get married, O'Connell. Once you get married, you have to find your fun somewhere else."

Rick tried not to dwell on those words as Beni took him back into the house, but he couldn't help thinking of them when Lucy called Beni "darling" in that sweet, exaggerated way, as if she was unintentionally mocking every term of endearment that had ever been created. He couldn't help thinking of them when Beni frowned a bit as he kissed Lucy on the cheek, as if affection was a chore. They were a mockery of wedded bliss, playing their roles for Rick's benefit, and he was relieved when he finally said goodbye and headed for the front door, eager to leave the beautiful white house and escape into the fresh air.

"You'll come see us again soon, won't you, Rick?" Lucy pleaded. "It's wonderful to see you and I know it'll do Beni some good, having you around. Isn't that right, dear?" she said, addressing her husband. "Won't it do you some good, staying at home with Rick to entertain you?"

"Sure, but not tomorrow," said Beni. "I have to meet somebody tomorrow."

"It seems like you _always_ have to meet somebody," said Lucy.

"I cannot help it. I am a busy man."

"You're lucky you're not a rich man, Rick," said Lucy. "You wouldn't believe how many responsibilities a man gains when he comes into money!"

Beni snorted but said nothing.

Lucy wrapped Rick in one final embrace and whispered, " _Try to come soon!_ " before she released him and bounced back to her husband's side. Beni gave Rick a cool nod and a goodbye that was just as disinterested as his initial hello, then slunk away with his listless eyes and ill-fitting suit, a picture of wealthy dissatisfaction.

Rick took off in his old car and puttered his way out of the neighborhood, past shops and churches and quiet homes until he reached his own jumble of a street, where mansions stood next to drab little houses and the elite peeped into the yards of the average man. Mr. Carnahan lived in a three-storied monstrosity that looked like it was waiting to swallow Rick's house any second, the kind of mansion that made Rick think of stuffy English tea parties, of croquet tournaments on grassy lawns, of more money than he would know what to do with. His friend Izzy, who had occupied the plain little house while Rick let his restless travels carry him from country to country, had generously allowed Rick to look after the place for an undetermined length of time, and Rick had agreed because the rent was cheap and he was tired of hotels. Izzy, meanwhile, was out in the desert trying his luck at flying planes, having been unsuccessful at building his own automobiles. The garage was still littered with random pieces of metal and some spare tires, leftover remnants of Izzy's numerous experiments, and Rick parked out in the yard, reminding himself to clear out the garage later that day.

He got out of his car and went up the short walkway, aware that the mansion next door provided excellent shade from Egypt's brutal sun. He still saw no sign of his neighbor and imagined Mr. Carnahan as an eccentric old man, the type who spent a good deal of money simply for the sake of spending it. His parties were probably formal gatherings, full of stiff people and unappetizing French food, and the old man was probably hoping that somebody would tear down Rick's eyesore of a home, just to save his guests the trouble of having to see it.

Rick assumed he would be excluded from Mr. Carnahan's parties, since he wasn't part of Cairo's upper crust, but he was surprised the next morning when he received a gleaming white envelope in the mail. At first he thought it was another letter from Lucy, but the handwriting was decidedly masculine, and when he opened up the message he found an invitation to one of the infamous parties next door, held at seven o'clock that evening.

The note was signed _Jonathan Carnahan_.


	3. Empty space in a restless life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Henderson’s first name is Isaac, apparently? All these years, I somehow failed to discover that until recently. I named him Sam in the story. Whoops.

Violet's car was already parked in front of the restaurant when Beni arrived. She sat waiting in the driver's seat, a wide-brimmed hat shielding her face from the sun, and smoked a cigarette with the impatience of a woman who spent her life waiting for big things to happen. Beni stepped out of his own car and moved with shifty-eyed precision until he was close enough to reach out and tap Violet on the shoulder.

She let out a little squeal and dropped her cigarette on the ground. "Oh, look what you made me do!" she cried.

Beni picked up the cigarette, which hadn't gone out in spite of its fall, and wiped off the end before sticking it in his mouth. "Thanks for the smoke."

"You frightened me on purpose," Violet huffed. "And what took you so long? I'm roasting out here."

"I got here as soon as I could. Now are you getting out of the car or not?"

"Of course I'm getting out. I don't want to sit here and bake all day."

Violet drove an imperious black car and opened the door with an imperious hand, but the image of royalty was shattered when she collapsed against Beni's shoulder and gasped a few breathless little giggles into his ear. "Oh, we're going to have fun!" she declared. "I've come up with the perfect thing to tell the waiter, too. Would you like to hear it?"

"Sure," said Beni.

"Well you're gonna have to wait," she said with a wink. "I want it to be a surprise."

Violet took a moment to slip off her wedding ring, removing the little gold band so swiftly that it could have been a trick of the light. She had quick fingers, the kind of fingers that good women used to play pretty little songs on black and white piano keys, but Violet had never touched a piano in her life. She coaxed men into playing it for her. She didn't attract approving stares the way Lucy always did upon entering a room, but Beni didn't walk into the restaurant with Violet on his arm to show her off. Violet was a breath of fresh air, a reminder of all the old habits that ruled his life before marriage, and he walked into the restaurant with Violet because he didn't need to depend on his rich wife for a good time.

"What do you want to drink?" he asked Violet as they were led to a shadowy table in the back, where a lack of windows kept the sun off their faces.

"Anything but bourbon," she said. "My husband just _loves_ bourbon and I'm tired of the stuff." She removed her hat, revealing the colorful scarf she had wrapped around her rather colorless hair, which hovered somewhere between blonde and brown. She had a round face with round eyes of an indeterminable dark color, and she batted her long eyelashes at the tall waiter who stood stiffly at their table like a scarecrow.

"Anything to drink?" said the stiff waiter.

"Excuse me, sir," said Violet, looking up at him adoringly. "Do you have any idea who I'm with this afternoon?"

His eyes drifted over to Beni and his shoulders grew rigid with immediate distaste. "No."

"Why, this is Beni Gabor himself. He's a Hungarian duke!" Violet sent another little wink in Beni's direction, then swiftly turned her attention back to the baffled waiter. "A Hungarian duke deserves a bottle of wine on the house, don't you think?"

"I can't possibly—"

"Oh, but I think you can, honey. Mr. Gabor here has some very powerful friends. I'd hate to see _such_ a handsome fellow like you get into trouble."

Beni smirked and added his agreement in Hungarian.

A few cracks appeared in the waiter's iceblock of a face. "I'll see what I can do."

"Wasn't that grand?" Violet said to Beni after their waiter strode out of earshot. "I had that fool convinced that you were a _duke!_ The people who work in these places think they're so fine and uppity, until you remind them that they're really no better than servants."

Beni didn't care if the waiter thought he was uppity or not. He basked in the afterglow of Violet's success, pleased with her ability to coax and manipulate in a way that impressed him more than Lucy's charm ever could. Lucy was a lovely ornament in public, the desirable young butterfly that every man wished he had captured in his net, and she acted so perfect that she made Beni sick sometimes. Nobody knew that she was just as dark and selfish as the worst of them. Nobody knew but Beni and Lucy herself, who had her pick of "good" men and denied them all, preferring the poor bed of a sneaking little thief.

The stiff waiter returned with the wine and took their orders, his face twitching slightly each time Violet teased and flirted with him. If Beni had been dressed in his old tattered rags from his old tattered life, the waiter would have grown fed up and tossed him out of the restaurant, but status made Beni immune. He was a Hungarian duke that day. Money made him untouchable.

Men placed status above character and women loved money more than they loved a handsome face. Beni had never possessed money or looks, but ever since his marriage he could go where he pleased and behave as he wished, just as long as he wore an uncomfortable suit and kept a full wallet on hand. It was easier to be liked when you had money. People were more willing to listen to him and women like Violet were more likely to sleep with him.

"This wine is exquisite," Violet announced, sampling her glass with round-eyed approval. "Sam wouldn't know any better. He couldn't recognize a good wine to save his life."

"Well Sam Henderson is not here," said Beni, weary of the constant attacks on her husband. Violet insulted her husband the way some people collected stamps or took photographs of scenery; a senseless hobby to fill the empty space in a restless life.

She didn't take the hint. "Thank God he isn't here. He doesn't care about anything but guns and bourbon and card games, and thinking he's a stupid cowboy."

"Then you should not have married him."

"Yeah?" Violet's marble-like eyes focused on Beni's sneering face. "Well nobody forced _you_ to marry perfect little Lucy."

"Shut up," said Beni.

"Why?"

"It is bad enough that I have to hear about your stupid husband. I don't want to hear about my wife, too."

" _Lucy_ ," Violet taunted. "I'll talk about _Lucy_ all I want, you—"

Beni grabbed the wine bottle and dumped it in Violet's lap, drenching the skirt of her dress. She wasted half a minute staring down at her lap and shrieking at him before she grabbed her napkin and began to hastily scrub at herself. Everyone in earshot was staring at them.

"What's the matter with you?" Violet demanded. "I was only having a little fun!"

"You were getting on my nerves," said Beni, watching her scrub at her dress with a little smile on his lips.

"Well I've lost my appetite. I'm going home."

Beni didn't realize his mistake until Violet swept out of the restaurant, the ends of her scarf waving behind her in the throes of an invisible gale, and the waiter presented him with a bill for the wine. Beni scowled and swore under his breath in his native Hungarian, but he didn't argue and threw some money on the table to appease the waiter. He didn't need his rich wife to have a good time, but her riches definitely helped when he got into a tight spot, and he departed the restaurant with his hat pulled down low on his head, hoping that no one would remember his face.

Violet would forgive him before long. She always forgave him, letting him back into her life again and again because he was foreign, disreputable, and wealthy. She couldn't stand Sam Henderson, the so-called "cowboy" she married on a whim back in America, likely out of boredom and a lack of funds, but she had a soft spot for Beni. Despite all his faults, Sam Henderson was a decent man, and Violet wasn't cut out for decent men.

Beni's annoyance faded by the time he pulled up in his garage and entered his house through the back door, unable to kick his old habit of sneaking into buildings. He saw no sign of his wife, but he could hear Gabriel fussing as he climbed up the stairs and headed for the refuge of his bedroom. Gabriel was always fussing over something; he had been miserable since the day he was born and he would probably always be miserable. It would have been better if he looked more like Lucy, but instead he took after Beni and had to grow up in a shallow world that mocked ugliness and worshiped beauty. It would have been better if Lucy had gotten rid of him, like she had originally planned, but her meddling grandmother found out she was in trouble and pressured her into marriage instead.

The further he traveled down the hall, the more he wondered where Lucy was, and he found himself peeping into rooms with the silent stealth he had learned through countless years of thieving. He discovered Lucy in the bathroom, standing beside the tub with nothing but a towel wrapped around her slender form, and he stood in the doorway until she turned around and spotted him.

"Beni!" Lucy gasped. "When did you get here?" Her hair was dry, but her bare shoulders were sprinkled with water droplets from her recent bath.

"Why don't you call me darling?" Beni asked.

She drew the towel a little closer to her body. "What?"

"Yesterday when O'Connell was here, you always called me darling. But when nobody else is around, you don't bother."

"Don't be ridiculous. You don't even _like_ those silly little names."

Beni took a step closer, amused when she took a tiny step backwards. "That is not the point," he said. Suddenly he wanted her. She stood before him in only a towel and he wanted her, remembering all those times when she sought him out two summers ago, longing for something different and a little dangerous. He remembered the fascination that shone in her eyes each time he refused to pay her a compliment, because he wasn't like the other besotted fools who swarmed around her. Girls who had been spoiled and petted all their lives were always looking for something different, something that turned their perfect rose-tinted worlds on their heads.

He wanted her because she was his wife, and she couldn't complain when he pulled her against his body and kissed her hard. She couldn't complain when he loosened the towel and let it drop to the floor, exposing the nakedness she thought she could hide.

Lucy didn't complain. She surrendered to him, letting him do whatever he liked, even though she probably knew he spent his day with Violet Henderson yet again. She _always_ surrendered to him.


	4. Into the laughing crowd

When seven o'clock arrived, Rick barely recognized the quiet home that loomed next door. The overwhelming solitude had been replaced with endless rows of cars lining the yard, more of them arriving by the minute, and every window in the house shone with light. It didn't seem like the stuffy gathering Rick had expected, judging from the music and laughter that floated through the doors and out into the night, and he quickly abandoned his original plan of dropping in for a minute, giving Mr. Carnahan a polite hello, and then leaving.

Curiosity, rather than a sense of neighborly duty, drove him to walk across his tiny speck of a yard and into the yard of his neighbor, where an Austin Seven squeezed itself between a tired Model T and a haughty Rolls-Royce. People came and went as they pleased, sailing through the large double doors at the front of the house, and before Rick made it to the front steps a girl dressed in silver bumped into him, buoyed along by the current of excitement.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" she said, giggling. She grabbed onto Rick's arm and looked up at him with a white, youthful face. "Let's go on up to the house, shall we?"

"Well—"

Rick couldn't get another word out. The girl tugged him up the yard, her grip as light and cool as a breeze, and Rick allowed her to lead him up the front steps and through the double doors that opened into a wide, crowded entrance hall with an impossibly high ceiling. Suddenly the girl disappeared, melting away into the laughing crowd, her silver dress blending into a thousand colors. Rick soon forgot her and strode past party guests who mingled in two's, three's, and small herds, for nobody appeared dull enough, or sober enough, to remain on their own for long. Rick's eyes were briefly drawn to a massive staircase, where people mingled about with drinks in their hands, in no clear hurry to join the noise that drifted down from the upper floors.

He shifted his gaze to the bar situated beside the staircase, where men in uniforms mixed drinks from dozens of different bottles. He listened to the chatter, a blend of accents from England, France, Holland, Germany that threatened to drown out the rare American tone that stood out to Rick's ear, and he followed the sound of his birthplace to the bar area, where a pair of men stood drinking and talking with the carefree easiness that Americans had turned into an art form.

"Big party," Rick commented. He hated small talk, but it felt strangely appropriate when he been adrift for so long.

One of the two men looked as if he had been drinking for quite some time. He perked up at the sound of Rick's voice, recognizing the sound of a fellow American, and took a hasty gulp from his drink before answering. "Of course it's a big party. Carnahan always throws the biggest parties."

"You know him?"

"Nah, I don't know him. I've never even seen the fella."

"I heard he won this house in a poker game," the other American spoke up. He wore spectacles and seemed hardly aware of the glass in his hand, as if he only carried it for show.

"Yeah?" said the first American. "Well I heard he has a mistress—probably some billionaire's wife or somethin'—who gave it to him."

"What do you mean, you've never seen him?" Rick cut in.

"A lot of people who come here have never even heard of him," the one with the spectacles explained. "They hear there's a party, so they get in their cars and show up. That's how _I_ got here the first time."

"It's that easy, huh?"

The first American let out a short bark of a laugh. "The doors're unlocked. Anyone can walk right in."

Rick chose not to mention the invitation he received in the mail that morning. His two companions, who answered to the names of Daniels and Burns, proved to be an unlikely pair; Daniels, the shorter and darker of the two, saw the world through the aggressive lens of a man determined to appear "tough," while Burns was content to throw out his milder responses in an attempt to right the balance. They had come to Egypt in search of treasure, but seemed unable to leave Cairo after stumbling into one of Mr. Carnahan's parties a couple of months before. The music, drinks, and laughter lured them week after week, keeping them tied down to the hot, dusty city where they lingered for days at a time, waiting for another intoxicating revel to pull them through the mansion's doors.

"They say Carnahan's ma was an Ay-rab," Daniels remarked, his tongue growing looser and more abrasive the longer he drank. "One of them full-blooded 'Gyptians."

"Where did you hear that?" Burns demanded.

"Everyone knows it. His daddy went and married a heathen Ay-rab."

"I've got friends who are Arabs," Rick said flatly.

"Well my dog's been my best friend for years," said Daniels, "but you don't see me gettin' hitched to her."

"You know, I could use some air," said Rick. He clapped Daniels on the shoulder. "Nice talking to you guys."

Daniels and Burns soon forgot him, willing to replace him with another listener, and Rick climbed the massive staircase up to the second floor, where a pair of bright-faced girls were tap-dancing for anyone willing to watch, and an older man wearing a fez and monocle stood with a pipe in his hand, loudly proclaiming something about Seti I. Rick was tempted to watch the girls, whose skirts fluttered around their knees as they stepped rapidly to their own wild beat, but he was pulled towards the man with the monocle. He had a snooty sort of voice that sounded more like an affectation than an accent, and he stood in a way that reminded Rick of a lump of rock; firm and immobile, aside from the occasional puff on his pipe. The longer Rick studied him, the more convinced he was that this snooty man was the mysterious Mr. Carnahan, and he decided he might as well introduce himself. The old man might take offense if he didn't.

"This is some house," said Rick, moving within earshot. "How much does it cost to live in a place like this?"

The man with the monocle remained stationary, craning his head just enough to see Rick. "Too much, I would imagine," he said stiffly.

"I'm Rick O'Connell." Rick put out a hand so his companion could shake it. "I live next door."

The man didn't shake hands. "You don't look like the man next door. I remember him being considerably... _darker_."

"He moved out."

"I'm glad to hear it. He made a dreadful racket the last time I was here, hammering away at some contraption. Mr. Carnahan should have called the police."

Rick's first suspicions, which grew weaker by the minute, disappeared altogether. "So... you're not Mr. Carnahan."

His companion looked scandalized. "My word, of course not. What on earth gave you _that_ idea?"

"Just a hunch, I guess. You know where he is?"

"Who, Mr. Carnahan? He's bound to be in one of these rooms. It _is_ his house after, all."

Rick left the man abruptly, eager to escape his condescending manner, and hoped that the real Mr. Carnahan was friendlier. He started to regret his decision to attend the party in the first place, but he was determined to meet the host and continued down the second floor hall, straining his ears for a word or a phrase that might give him a clue. He never left things half-finished if he could help it.

He absently grabbed a cocktail off a tray carried by a silent, wooden-faced servant, feeling a need for a drink as the evening wore on, and spent the next twenty minutes extricating himself from whirlpools of people who captured any guests that wandered into their domain. After having his ear talked off by an old retired soldier who couldn't let go of his youthful past, Rick found his way up another set of stairs that took him to the much quieter third floor. Only a few people lingered here, most of them wanderers who seemed enthralled with the decor, and Rick didn't have to speak to a single soul as he poked his head through open doorways, wondering if Mr. Carnahan was hiding from the noise and bustle of his own party.

After finding two empty guest rooms, a billiards room, and an office, he finally entered a library filled with shelves and shelves of books that looked like they stretched for miles. He was going to turn around and leave, ready to give up his search, when a soft gasp told him he wasn't alone.


	5. Superficial chatter

Rick stumbled his way through a hasty apology, realizing that the library's only occupant was both female and thoroughly startled by his intrusion. "Sorry," he muttered. "I was just, uh, looking around."

She peered at him over her book with wide eyes, a pair of glasses perched on the end of her nose. "That's quite all right," she said. She would have sounded nervous, but her English accent gave her words a polite edge. "You gave me a good scare, is all. People don't usually come wandering in here."

"You a regular at these parties?" Rick asked. He thought she looked right at home in the library, with her unfashionably long hair and sensible clothes, but he had a hard time picturing her downstairs, drinking cocktails and mingling with the likes of Burns and Daniels.

"Not exactly. My brother always insists I come to these silly parties of his, but I've never cared much for big parties. I never know what to say."

"Your brother," Rick repeated. "Lady, are you telling me you're related to the guy who lives here?"

She removed her glasses, her mild eyes slightly indignant. "Is that really so surprising?"

"No, I just — I didn't expect him to have a sister."

"Not many people do."

"So, uh, do you live here?" said Rick. "With your brother?"

"Oh no, I could never live in a place like this. I can't imagine where Jonathan got the money to rent it. He said he made some investments..." She trailed off, letting the rest of her sentence evaporate into the air. "But you probably have someplace to be, don't you? I suppose you _did_ come here for the party, after all."

The longer he stood within the library's quiet walls, the more he disliked the idea of returning to the party, with its superficial chatter and inexhaustible brightness. Rick could easily retreat from this neat and tidy sanctuary, back to crowds of drunks and revelers who would fawn over him one moment and forget his name the next, or he could remain with this lone young woman, this unexpected sister to the infamous Mr. Carnahan, and try to learn something about his invisible host.

"Not exactly," he said in response to her question, echoing her words from earlier. "I'm looking for your brother."

"Oh dear. I hope he hasn't stolen something or made a nuisance of himself. I've told him repeatedly that—"

"Relax," Rick cut in. "I haven't even met him yet."

She frowned a little at being interrupted, but the expression quickly softened as his words sank in. "Well that's a relief. I would hate for him to get on your bad side. You _are_ quite... big." She looked him over, then dropped her eyes to the book on her lap, the red stain of modesty upon her face.

"Thanks," said Rick.

"Would — would you like to sit down? I'm afraid I've been terribly rude. I haven't even introduced myself yet."

He tried to move slowly, afraid he would startle her, and approached an unlit fireplace—a massive stone structure with a black, gaping mouth—where two armchairs sat at either end. He sank into the empty chair and looked towards the young woman, waiting for her to speak first. She soon did, rather shy and hesitant as she told him her name was Evelyn, and that she and her brother had been living in Egypt for nearly six months.

"It's always been my dream to come here, you see," said Evelyn, her shyness slipping away to reveal an eagerness that brightened her whole face. "I've always wanted to find tombs and mummies like the ones I read about as a child."

"Mummies, huh?" said Rick. "So you're not afraid of dead guys wrapped in bandages?"

"Why, of course not. There's nothing to fear from the dead."

"You'd be surprised at what people are willing to believe."

"Like what?"

"I've got this friend named Izzy who swears mummies can get up and walk. Says he knows a guy who saw one once."

"Now that's the most ridiculous thing I've ever head of," said Evelyn. "Imagine a mummy coming back to life and actually _walking_!"

It occurred to Rick that Evelyn was a species of woman unknown to him. He had known dozens of frivolous, lighthearted girls with frivolous, lighthearted dreams; dreams that consisted of smoky little bars, fast dances with handsome strangers, and automobile rides beneath starry skies. Girls who would scream their heads off if they ever encountered mummies or ancient tombs. Girls who were beautiful and had a good time, but didn't baffle and intrigue him the way Evelyn Carnahan did.

"So what's the deal with these parties?" Rick asked. "Special occasion or something?"

"I wish that were the case," said Evelyn, with a little sigh. "Jonathan simply loves parties, the more extravagant the better. He's not what I would call wild, exactly, but he's always been rather... _careless_. I shudder to think of how much money he's wasted on these gatherings of his."

"I say! Is that _your_ voice I hear, old mum? I expected to find you with your nose in a book."

A new voice entered the library; a male voice with a cheerful English accent, and Rick assumed that the man who approached them was his mysterious neighbor. He was surprisingly ordinary for such a legendary figure, of average height and build with neatly parted brown hair and a plain, yet costly suit of clothes. Evelyn sat up straighter in her seat, casting a flustered little glance at Rick, and briskly addressed the newcomer.

"Jonathan, really, you ought to do a better job looking after your guests," she said. "This man says he's been searching all over for you."

Jonathan turned his gaze upon Rick, then looked back at his sister with a boyish grin. "Evy, you sly girl. I turn my back on you for an hour and here you are, getting cozy with a perfect stranger. And here I thought you only liked dead fellows!"

"I _do_. Now at least say hello to the poor man."

"I'm Rick O'Connell," said Rick, glad to introduce himself to the right man at last. "You invited me over."

"Ah, _yes_ , O'Connell." Jonathan accepted Rick's handshake with enthusiasm, his blue eyes dancing to the intoxicating beat of cocktails and nighttime revelry. "So you're American!"

"And you're a difficult guy to find," said Rick.

"Oh, well, best to keep a low profile at parties. Never know who you might run into."

"Creditors, for instance," Evelyn put in quietly.

"Evy, don't be silly. I haven't seen a creditor on the doorstep in months! You know those fellows are always mistaken anyway." Jonathan nudged Rick with his elbow, a conspiratorial smile on his lips. "Can you believe that I'm always getting mistaken for someone else? Everyone thinks I owe them money! What a world we're living in, eh?"

"Yeah," said Rick, backing away slightly to avoid Jonathan's elbow, in case it decided to nudge him again. "What a world."

"I suppose I'll leave you two to chat, then," said Evelyn, rising from her seat. "It was a, um, pleasure to meet you, Mr. O'Connell." She fumbled for her book, which had ended up on the floor beside her chair, and clutched her book and glasses to her chest with an apologetic air.

It finally dawned on Jonathan that his sister intended to leave the room. "Evy, you can't go and leave already. The night is young!"

She clutched her property closer to her chest, her smile white and cheerful. "Oh, don't worry about me. I suppose I'll look for that dratted Dr. Chamberlain, the one who was so rude to me last month. I'll show _him_ whose opinions are truly hogwash!" Her bravado was comical, though Rick didn't dare laugh at her. Retreating back inside herself, she bid one last quiet, hesitant farewell to them both, then slipped out into the hall.

Jonathan waved a hand in the direction of the doorway, where Evelyn disappeared. "My sister," he explained casually.

"She told me," said Rick.

"Ah, splendid. Splendid. I'm all the poor girl has in the world, you know. Let's get away from these dreary old books, shall we? A man can hardly breathe in here."

Jonathan led the way, propelled forward by an enthusiastic self-importance that would have seemed genuine, if it wasn't for the occasional cracks that showed through. He talked aimlessly about a number of things, jumping from one topic to another as he gave Rick a tour of the house, dodging party guests and talking at great volume whenever the music and laughter threatened to drown him out. Rick soon discovered that Jonathan took great delight in discussing everything under the sun, except himself.

"—and Father was always mad about Egypt," he was saying after Rick bluntly asked what he did for a living. "Explored the whole country up and down, searching for buried treasure and so on. Even went and married an Egyptian woman, my mother." He clapped a friendly hand on Rick's shoulder and laughed. "Evy takes after her much more than I do, though she can be as prim as an old London schoolteacher when she wants to be. Clumsy as an ox, too, but don't ever tell the old girl I said that."

They stood on a balcony that overlooked a large swimming pool, empty of guests due to the chilly desert night. The light from the house shone on the water, reflecting it in places, and Rick could easily imagine envious neighbors sneaking over to take a dip on hot afternoons, when Jonathan was out and about. He thought he remembered Izzy mentioning it once, though most of Izzy's stories were wild embellishments on plain, ordinary truth. He _was_ certain that Izzy had never been invited to one of Jonathan's parties, and wondered if Jonathan would give him a straight answer if he asked the reason why. The man steered clear of personal topics as if they carried the plague, preferring to chatter on about his sister, his late parents, or vague acquaintances that Rick neither knew nor cared about. When Rick casually asked about the cost of his house, Jonathan laughed the question away, batting it aside the way people swatted at flies in the Cairo marketplaces.

"Great Scott, O'Connell," he said, chuckling into the night as he leaned over the balcony. "Who remembers details like that? I suppose people like Evy do, but I was never one for figures and sums and all that nonsense."

"Must be an expensive house, though," said Rick. "Where's your sister staying?"

"Evy takes perfectly good care of herself, as she often tells me. She works, you know. Got herself a job down at the museum, gadding about with dust and cobwebs and old dead blokes, and who knows what else."

Both of them fell silent for a full minute, gazing down at the quiet pool. Every now and then Jonathan would fidget and turn his head towards Rick, on the verge of some burning question, but then he would clamp up and turn away again, drumming his fingers absently upon the balcony railing. Finally he broke the silence.

"Why don't we, ah, go back inside? Better make sure Evy hasn't gotten herself into a spot of trouble. Devilishly clumsy, you know."

With a sheepish smile, Jonathan headed back into the house, disappearing in a cloud of whirling skirts and twinkling cocktail glasses, leaving Rick to wander his way back down to the entrance hall. He walked out the front doors, stepping out of a dream and into crisp, cold reality, where his quiet little home awaited him, and left Jonathan's unsaid questions for another night.


	6. A wild time in her life

"Why don't we ever go anywhere?" Lucy asked.

She was lying on a couch, wearing a white dress in a vain attempt to ward off the heat, and waited for the late morning hour to crawl its way towards noon. She had her eyes closed, feeling too warm and luxurious to open them, but she could hear Beni skulking around the house, probably wondering where she had hidden the bottle opener. She was tired of him sitting around in the afternoons drinking vodka all the time, because it turned him into such a grouch in the evenings.

"What are you talking about?" said Beni. He was closer now, just a few feet away from her couch. He grabbed a curtain and gave it a careless tug, pulling it more tightly over the big window to hide the sun's rays.

"We never go anywhere," said Lucy. " _Never_."

Beni heaved a whiny little sigh. "Well what do you want me to do about it?"

"Oh, I don't know. Why don't we go to the opera one of these nights?"

"Opera is boring."

"How do _you_ know? You've never even gone."

Beni didn't answer. Lucy opened her eyes, wary of his silence, and shifted her position on the couch so she could see his face. He stood by the heavily-curtained window, his hands shoved deeply into his pockets as he frowned at nothing in particular. She used to love his frowns; before they were married she would purposely tease him in hopes of receiving one of those funny little glares, but there was nothing funny about his face that morning.

"You've gone with _her_ , haven't you?" she said.

Beni swatted at a bug that had flown in from outside, seeking shelter from Cairo's sun. "Gone where?"

"To the opera. You've gone with her, I know you have!"

"Come on, Lucy," Beni groaned. "How the hell do you know what I do?"

"I _don't_ know, but I can guess, and I wish you and I would go out sometime. You can have a good time with your wife, can't you?"

"We have plenty of good times."

She didn't like the smirk on his face. It reminded her that he could have her whenever he wished, whether she wanted it or not. "That's not what I meant," she said. "And you know it."

"Then what did you mean?"

"I'm just saying that we ought to get out more. Find some nice, big party full of interesting people, and do something new for a change."

"Why are you so interested in parties?" Beni asked, eying her suspiciously. He was always suspicious of everyone, everything, _everywhere_ , growing up on the streets the way he did. Lucy had tried and failed to stamp it out of him. "You do not like big, rich parties."

"That's because they're all the same, but it'll be different if Rick can find one for us."

Beni rolled his eyes. "Yes, because O'Connell has such wonderful connections."

"You don't even know what you're talking about," Lucy insisted, sitting up straighter on her couch. "Rick says his next-door neighbor has a mansion, and he's always giving parties—"

She abruptly stopped talking, afraid she had said too much. Beni was too busy sneering at the curtains to notice the blush on her cheeks.

"I have heard about that man," he said. "His parties are not so great."

"Why do you always have to be that way?" Lucy asked, her voice cold and quiet.

"What way?"

"You're jealous of every single person who has more than you do, and don't try to deny it. I know you better than anyone, Beni. Why can't you ever be satisfied?"

He walked away from the window, grumbling to himself under his breath in a language she would never understand. He thought he was so fine, dressed to the nines in all those expensive suits he bought with her money, and he thought he was so powerful, just because Lucy had vowed to honor and obey him. Beni thought he was a lot of things, when he would never really be anything more than a money-grabbing leech who took whatever he could get and complained about it afterwards. Lucy sank back onto the couch cushions, stretching her legs out in front of her, and closed her eyes again as she listened to Beni make his slow way across the room, fighting his way through the heavy summer air. She didn't know what he was doing and didn't care, lost in memories of that afternoon not long ago, when Rick mentioned that long-lost name that she hadn't heard in five years.

Perhaps the Mr. Carnahan that Rick had mentioned was a different Carnahan altogether. She never expected to see Jonathan again, after all, though it wouldn't be so strange if he _did_ end up in Cairo, to the land where his late mother had come from. Or so he said, all those years ago when Lucy was a bored, bright-eyed girl seeking amusement on an otherwise dull family trip. Perhaps the Mr. Carnahan that Rick had mentioned _was_ Jonathan, and he had been living in Cairo right under her nose. Perhaps he still thought of her sometimes, the way she still thought of him every now and then, allowing his memory to tease the edges of her mind like a pleasant, half-forgotten dream.

She took in a deep breath, then released it as a soft, drawn-out sigh. She was _so_ warm and it wasn't even noon. She longed for grey clouds and light morning drizzle, like the kind that often woke her from slumber during those three months she spent in England years ago. She longed to be back there now, even if it meant staying in her great-uncle's big shadow of a house, with its gloomy corners and dark, eerie furniture. Just a minute or two outside in that crisp air, under that drizzle that kept the lawns a pure, vibrant green, would do her so much good.

The heat weighed on her daydreams, drying them up until nothing was left, and she sighed again as she reached for the end table beside the couch, hoping she had left her fan there. Her searching hand found nothing, not even a stray cigarette to take her mind off the dull, hazy day that stretched out before her with no end in sight.

"Beni, fetch me a cigarette, would you?" Lucy called out.

He didn't answer.

"Beni?" Lucy said again, but she spoke to the empty air. Beni had disappeared.

Sometimes, when Lucy found it hard to paste on the bright smile that had won so many hearts, she wished that Beni would disappear forever. She was being honest when she told Rick that sometimes she liked him and sometimes she didn't, but there were times when she couldn't stand him. She met him at a wild time in her life, when she was still settling into the dusty, mystifying land of Egypt and battling her homesickness for America. When her family set her aside in favor of crumbling old ruins and smashed bits of pottery that would never be beautiful again. When eager young men flocked to her side and adored her like she had never been adored before, each one hoping that she would take him aside and whisper thrilling promises in his ear, assuring him that she was his and his alone.

And then she met Beni, who shattered the monotony of her world and captured her interest because he was different in all the worst ways. She was caught up in his wickedness, lured into the darkness that called to her with its low, seductive hum, and she slipped away from the harmless, youthful crowd to spend her evenings with a poor rat from Budapest. She tried to forget that she had once been to England, that she had once been in love with a man named Jonathan who drank like a fish and always made her laugh.

Lucy had always liked funny men. Beni was also funny, but in a different, more pathetic way, and she treated their dark little dalliance like it was a game she couldn't lose.

Even when she found out about the baby, she still wanted to believe that she couldn't lose. She spent ages trying to find a decent doctor who could get rid of it, but they all seemed _so_ filthy and incompetent, more likely to kill her than help her. She kept to herself and avoided her family, who were all too busy fussing over ancient artifacts to notice her anyway, but she couldn't avoid her paternal grandmother who had come for an extended visit. The old woman looked at Lucy through her square-rimmed spectacles and knew she was in trouble, and that a ring had to be found for her as soon as possible. She wouldn't hear of finding a good doctor to solve the problem.

"You got yourself into this mess," her grandmother informed her. "You'll see it through to the end and face the consequences."

Lucy opened her eyes again and studied the little gold band around her finger. It served her right, getting involved with a man like Beni in the first place. She could have taken any man's last name, any last name she pleased, and instead she convinced Beni to have a private ceremony without inviting anyone. Beni liked being a free man, but he liked the idea of being rich even more.

The wedding ring felt oppressive in the heat, its golden weight choking her finger, and Lucy longed to take it off and fling it across the room. She probably would have done it, if only she had the energy, and tucked her married hand into the folds of her white skirt where she wouldn't have to see it.

She married Beni to spite her grandmother and all her relatives who never liked Jonathan, and now she was paying for her mistake.


	7. Reckless curiosity

Rick half-expected Jonathan Carnahan to fade away once the lights of his party had dimmed and the last note of laughter had died away, but he occasionally saw Jonathan go about in his car and caught sight of him in the windows of his house, which was always brightly lit in the evenings. He never saw Evelyn, though sometimes he found himself staring at the mansion next door, wondering if she had dropped in for a visit and cloistered herself in the library, before he remembered that Jonathan mentioned something about a job down at the museum. It didn't make much sense to Rick, since a woman with such a wealthy brother clearly didn't need to work, but he supposed it was just a quirk of Evelyn's character. She could be the queen of England and would still choose to happily spend her days working in a museum, or at least that was the impression that Rick received at the party.

He kept himself busy throughout the week, earning a modest salary down at Giza Port, where he guarded luggage and helped load the numerous boats that came and went on the Nile. He exchanged notes with Lucy once or twice, made some repairs on his house, and regarded Jonathan with only a vague interest until Jonathan drove up on Saturday afternoon, a week after their first meeting. Rick thought an intruder had arrived in his yard and grabbed two pistols, sticking one in his holster and carrying the other in his hand as he went to the door. He realized his mistake too late and found himself standing in his doorway, pointing his gun at a very bewildered Jonathan, who had just gotten out of his car.

"Well that's a bloody nice way to welcome a man!" Jonathan exclaimed, shielding his face with his outstretched arms.

"Sorry." Rick lowered the gun. "Old habit."

"Good God, I'd hate to see what other habits you've picked up."

"Any reason why you're here?" asked Rick. He hadn't spoken to Jonathan in a week and didn't feel particularly connected to him at the party, despite the fact that Jonathan had taken him on a full tour of the house. Rick lived in one world and Jonathan lived in quite another, contained in his fortress next door, and Rick couldn't imagine what would drive Jonathan to his house aside from the vast boredom that often preyed on the very wealthy.

Jonathan eyed him warily until Rick stuck the gun in his other holster, then ambled forward with a carefree cheer that was both uplifting and exasperating. "I just thought I'd pop on over and be neighborly," he said. "You're quite free this afternoon, aren't you?"

"I _was_ free," said Rick.

"Oh, good." Jonathan looked past Rick and peered into the depths of the doorway, straining his eyes for a look at his home. "Now this looks like a cozy little abode."

"Keeps the sun off my face."

"Yes, well..." Jonathan straightened up and cleared his throat. "Listen, O'Connell, I've got just a _slight_ favor to ask you. It's not even a favor at all, really."

"I'm listening," said Rick.

"I've got to meet somebody for drinks today, and since you seem to be, er, tall and brawny and armed to the teeth, I thought you ought to come along. We'll make a smashing day of it!"

"And who says I want to go with you?"

"You don't exactly _have_ to go, old chap, but what's a favor here and there between neighbors, eh? It won't hurt you." Jonathan broke into a guilty grin and dropped his voice to a mumble. "At least I hope not."

Rick just barely caught the mumble and couldn't tell if Jonathan was joking or not, but those words awakened his curiosity; a reckless curiosity that didn't mind stepping into danger in order to be satisfied. "I'll go," said Rick, watching Jonathan sternly from his doorway. "I could use a little excitement."

"It won't be all that exciting, I'm afraid," said Jonathan, relief written all over his face. "More boring than anything. Still I _am_ glad..." He trailed off, lost in his own private thoughts, and soon hopped into the driver's seat of his car with his easy smile back in place.

Rick kept his twin pistols strapped to his sides, hiding them under a thin jacket, and wordlessly joined Jonathan in the car. The top was down, letting the hot sun beat down on their heads, though Rick was plunged into a fast, cool breeze as the car soared down the road and into the heart of Cairo. Jonathan said nothing for a while, frowning into the sun and swerving to avoid men swathed in turbans and market stalls bursting with beads, pottery, and brightly colored rugs. After he narrowly avoided a collision with a carriage pulled by a pair of mules, he broke the tense silence and sent a sly glance at Rick.

"I suppose I should mention that we're meeting with a woman," he said. "You could call her an art dealer of sorts. We do business together."

"What kind of business?" Rick dared to ask.

"Oh, you know. This and that. A bit of buying and selling and that sort of thing. I happened to, ah, _acquire_ something very important she wanted—some bracelet or other—and we've been working together ever since. Charming woman. I think she'll find you quite handsome and intimidating and all that."

Rick tried to puzzle through this muddled response until he was suddenly jolted in his seat. Jonathan had just missed another collision.

"Learn how to bloody drive, will you?" Jonathan shouted. "Unbelievable, this town is. You can't drive down two streets without encountering some blasted cart pulled by goats, of all things! The silly horned creatures ought to be outlawed."

They finally arrived at a lively bar full of Arab musicians playing flutes while a group of women danced and used their eyes to subtly flirt with the patrons over their veils. A fountain splashed in the middle of the room and Jonathan cheerfully flicked a coin into the water, asking it to bring him luck. His cheer quickly vanished when he spotted the dark-haired woman seated at a table and the large black man who stood nearby, his arms crossed over his wide, muscular chest.

"So she's brought jolly old Lock-Nah along," Jonathan muttered. "What fun."

"A friend of yours, I take it," said Rick, raising an eyebrow.

"Hello, Jonathan," the woman said in a calm, calculated voice, choosing her words with care. Her shrewd brown eyes landed on Rick. "And who is this?"

"Oh, this is Rick O'Connell," said Jonathan. "Great war hero, you know. Wiped out three hundred Germans all by himself. And don't even get me started on his exploits _after_ the war! This man fought a tiger with his bare hands, defeated the poor beast, and had a magnificant rug made from its coat."

The woman's expression didn't waver as she studied Rick, her eyes lingering on the bulges beneath his jacket where the guns were concealed. "Is this true?"

Rick resisted the urge to kick Jonathan. "It's a long story."

"Have a seat," she told both of them. "I'll order drinks."

Lock-Nah stood by like a statue and offered no greetings, preferring to watch them all as the woman—Meela Nais, Rick soon learned—ordered the drinks and asked Rick the usual sort of questions that people always asked out of politeness rather than curiosity. Though she didn't wear a veil like the dancing women did, Meela kept herself carefully guarded and only told Rick what she wanted him to hear, which was hardly anything at all.

"So, uh, what brings you back to Cairo, Meela?" Jonathan asked. "I thought you'd be away for another two weeks."

"Is that what I told you?" Meela asked innocently. "I honestly can't remember."

"Well, look here, I made an extraordinary profit on some—"

"I know," said Meela. "I don't want to talk about business right now. You've never invited me to one of those little parties I've heard so much about, have you?"

"Not on purpose, of course. I know how frightfully busy you are—"

"You're having one tonight. Am I correct?"

"Yes, well—"

"Then I'll be there at seven o'clock." Smiling, Meela flicked her eyes over in Rick's direction. "And will your friend Mr. O'Connell be there too?"

Rick should have shot the tires of Jonathan's car when he had the chance, if only to avoid this cold, forceful woman. "Actually—"

"Of course he'll be there!" said Jonathan, giving Rick a boisterous clap on the shoulder. "The old tiger slayer can never resist my parties, can you, O'Connell?"

Rick _did_ kick Jonathan this time, catching him right in the shin.

"I'll look forward to seeing you," Meela told Rick. If she noticed Jonathan's wince of pain, she didn't show it.

Something caught Rick's eye as he took a sip from his drink. He spotted a figure across the room, a shifty, scurrying figure dressed in a suit that didn't flatter his skinny frame. He looked like more of an imposter than ever without his dazzling wife at his side. Rick debated on whether or not he should get up and greet Beni, when the scrawny figure scurried out of sight, leaving Rick with no choice but to remain with his present company.

Meela noticed his distracted gaze. "Something the matter, Mr. O'Connell?"

"It's nothing," said Rick. "I just thought I saw my buddy Beni over there."

"Beni, eh?" said Jonathan. "If he's an American like yourself, then you ought to invite him along tonight. Nobody parties quite like the Americans do!"

"He's Hungarian, actually. Beni Gabor."

"Beni _Gabor_ , did you say?" Jonathan's eyes were round, his mouth open in astonishment. "You're acquainted with Beni Gabor?"

"Yeah," said Rick. "You know him?"

"Oh, no, not at all. I know _of_ him, though. I say, I think I'll go over to the bar and have myself another drink..."

Jonathan rose from his seat and wandered absently away, like a man sleepwalking while caught in some elusive dream. Rick had never been more baffled by the man. Meela barely reacted to Jonathan's hasty departure and casually sipped her drink, peering at Rick over the rim of her glass. She continued to gaze at him as she set the glass down and leaned forward a little, placing her arms upon the table.

"How interesting," she said.

"What's interesting?" asked Rick.

"That you're friends with Jonathan and Beni Gabor. Jonathan is in love with Mr. Gabor's wife."

"How do you know that?"

Meela smirked. "I know a lot of stories about Jonathan. Maybe I'll tell you some tonight, if I'm in the mood."

"What exactly do you _do_ , anyway?"

"Why? Hoping for a business connection?"

Rick had a feeling that if he said yes, he would be selling his soul to a devil of sorts. "No. I'm just curious."

Jonathan returned with a drink in his hand, a forced smile upon his face as he dropped back into his seat. Rick looked at him with new eyes, trying to imagine him in love with a woman like Lucy, and felt strangely exhausted when it was finally time for him and Jonathan to head back to their respective homes. He wasn't sorry to say goodbye to Meela, who kept sneaking significant glances at him, as if the two of them shared a private joke, and felt Lock-Nah's serious gaze fixed on the back of his head as he followed Jonathan out of the bar. The whole meeting didn't sit right with him; behind all the veiled smiles and idle chatter lurked dark secrets that Rick had no wish to uncover, no matter how much Jonathan baffled him. The car ride home was a silent journey and Jonathan kept his eyes on the road, avoiding stray goats and running children without a single complaint, and only alcohol, rather than carelessness, caused him to clumsily park the car in front of Rick's door.

"So are you and Mr. Gabor, uh, close friends?" Jonathan asked. He squinted at the sun that blared directly in his face, making it impossible to tell his expression.

"I guess you could say that," said Rick. "I've known him a long time."

"I suppose you know his wife as well, then."

"Yeah."

The corner of Jonathan's mouth lifted into a half-smile. "I used to know her as well, years ago. Most splendid girl I ever knew. Pity she's gone and settled down, eh?" He laughed, dropping his eyes down to his lap to avoid the sun, and bid Rick a cheery goodbye.


	8. Hiding some other emotion

Evening arrived in Cairo, bringing a swarm of cars to Jonathan's magnificent home. The party was in full swing by the time Rick crossed his yard and entered the wide double doors that separated the outside world, with its slums, beggars, and disease, from the opulent world that only concerned itself with fun, liquor, and everything frivolous. Rick made a beeline for the staircase, hoping to find quieter rooms upstairs, when a woman in a black dress glided forward and gently touched his arm.

"Mr. O'Connell," said the woman, her dark eyes glittering beneath a matching black hat. "Glad you could make it."

"Meela," said Rick. He was surprised she had kept her word about attending Jonathan's party. "I, uh, didn't actually kill a tiger, you know."

"I figured that out myself," she said. "Jonathan is a born liar."

"Yeah? Then why do you do business with him?"

She offered him a cold, tight-lipped smile and took him by the arm. "That's between me and Jonathan. He does have his uses, even if he _is_ a party-loving fool."

"Where's your little friend from earlier?" said Rick, scanning the crowd of people for a familiar hulking form. "Lock-Nah, or whatever his name is?"

"He doesn't care for parties," was Meela's cool reply. Her grip on Rick's arm tightened. "Why don't we find someplace a little less... crowded? This hall is too noisy for my tastes."

Meela didn't give Rick a choice in the matter. She easily navigated the sea of party guests that flooded the first floor of the house, dismissing them as if they were nothing more than useless decoration, and she seemed to have no trouble finding her way around a mansion that didn't belong to her. She moved with a purpose, leading Rick up the stairs and through the second floor hall, and kept him occupied with her willingness to talk about anyone besides herself. It was something she and Jonathan had in common.

"How long have you known Jonathan?" she asked, taking him past a pair of men who might have been Burns and Daniels.

"A week," said Rick. "I just moved in next door."

Her smile was unsettling. "I see. It must be nice living right next to all this splendor."

"Lady, I'm just glad to have a roof over my head."

"Well you're fortunate that you found one. Let's retire in here, shall we?"

Rick couldn't shake the feeling that Meela was intimately familiar with every room of Jonathan's house, despite the fact that she had never attended one of his parties. The room she dragged him into resembled an office or a study, with large wooden bookcases, a massive desk, and a stone fireplace similar to the one found in the library. Meela extricated herself from Rick's arm and settled gracefully onto a large leather sofa that sat near the fireplace, crossing one slender leg over the other. Her black dress blended in with the rich, dark leather.

"There are some bottles and glasses behind that desk, if you want a drink," she said.

"I'll pass," said Rick. He stood in the middle of the room, his feet planted upon an oriental rug that stretched across the floor, his suspicions growing by the minute. He doubted that Meela was simply an art dealer, as Jonathan said.

"Well?" said Meela, smirking at him from her sofa. "Aren't you going to have a seat?"

"Why'd you bring me here?" Rick asked bluntly. "I'm not interested in business."

"Who said anything about business? I just wanted to have a little chat."

"Make your _little chat_ quick, then. I don't want to be here all night."

"Neither do I, Mr. O'Connell." Meela patted the empty spot beside her. "The sooner you have a seat, the sooner we can get this over with."

Rick ignored the sofa and sat down in the chair across from Meela, purposely keeping his distance. "Then let's get it over with," he said.

She responded with another one of her smirks, an enigma of a smile that promised nothing. "Jonathan wants to meet with Mr. Gabor's wife. He says he wants you to invite her to your house and let him come over."

Rick frowned. "Why can't he just find her himself and invite her to _his_ place?"

"Don't ask _me_. He's being secretive about the whole thing, but of course he _is_ planning a secret meeting with someone else's wife."

"I'm not making any promises," said Rick, though he couldn't help thinking of the way Lucy forced herself to be cheerful around her husband, or the casual way Beni bragged about his mistress. It was none of his business whether they were happy together or not, but he didn't have to be a genius to see that Lucy was getting a bad deal. He met Meela's dark eyes and didn't like the way she watched him, like a cat waiting to pounce. "How do I know this isn't some trick?"

"It isn't a trick, Mr. O'Connell," said Meela. "You've clearly gotten Jonathan to trust you, so I'm just passing on the message."

"I didn't get him to do anything. And I don't want any trouble."

"There won't be any trouble. All you have to do is invite Mrs. Gabor to your house."

"And what do _you_ get out of this?"

"Excuse me?"

"I asked what you're getting out of this," said Rick. "What do you care if Jonathan sees Mrs. Gabor again?"

Meela ignored his question, tossing it aside in favor of her own. "That's not important. Will you speak to Mrs. Gabor or not?"

"I'll do it for Lucy Gabor. Not for anyone else."

"Then I suppose this conversation is over. I'll show you to the door." Meela got up from her sofa, a specter in black silk, and waited for Rick to rise to his feet. She latched onto him once more, her hand closing around his arm like a prison shackle, and looked up into his face with those eyes that had a thousand secrets carefully locked away. "Do you know what else I find interesting?"

"What?" said Rick.

"I find it interesting that you strolled up out of nowhere and settled right next to this particular mansion. I find it interesting that you've only been here a week and you're already attending meetings you weren't invited to. I _especially_ find it interesting that you're acquainted with the one woman Jonathan has been pining after for five years."

"Most of it's coincidence."

"Coincidence?" Meela laughed. "Coincidence is the word people use when they're hiding something." She walked Rick to the door and smirked at him as she turned the golden knob. "Don't get on my bad side, Mr. O'Connell. You won't like it."

Rick strode down the second floor hall with those parting words ringing in his ears. He couldn't dwell on them for long, for a group of girls just out of their teens were clustered nearby, jabbering loudly to each other in French, and Rick moved aside only to find himself in the middle of an impromptu golf game. A pair of drunken men, red-faced and jovial, had brought actual golf clubs along and amused themselves by swinging at everything in sight, causing only minimal damage in the wide, spacious hall. Rick narrowly avoided getting hit in the leg with an orange.

By some miracle, he bumped into Jonathan on his way down the stairs and wanted to throttle him for letting Meela be his messenger girl. Jonathan was delighted to see him and slung a friendly arm over Rick's broad shoulders, acting so infuriatingly good-natured that Rick's anger cooled, leaving suspicion in its wake.

"Have a cocktail, O'Connell!" Jonathan cried, urging Rick down the stairs. "It's a brilliant night. Live a little!" His cheerfulness sounded forced and his laughter was strained, hiding some other emotion that threatened to spill over.

"We need to talk," Rick said sternly.

"Something the matter? A cocktail will fix that right up, you know. Why don't I go over and fetch you—"

Rick yanked Jonathan down the remaining steps, cutting off his sentence, and took him to a rare stretch of floor that wasn't populated with guests. "What's your little game with Meela?" He pushed Jonathan against the wall with just enough pressure to keep him in place, but not enough to hurt him.

Jonathan's eyes were wide and panicky. "I'm afraid you're overreacting, old chap. I simply wanted Meela to ask you a little favor, that's all!"

"Why couldn't you ask me yourself?"

"She insisted on speaking to you again. God only knows why, but I couldn't possibly refuse her! What the devil did she _say_ to get you in such a mood?"

Jonathan didn't seem guilty, though it was hard to tell with a supposed born liar. "Nothing," said Rick. "We had a misunderstanding."

"Well — would you mind letting me go? This is very uncomfortable..."

Rick released Jonathan and watched him take a series of deep breaths, as if Rick had forced him to sprint around the house instead of pushing him against the wall for a couple of brief minutes. He looked at Rick, his gaze straying from his face to the floor and back again, and the feeble beginnings of an anxious smile started to take shape.

"So, about that question... _Did_ Meela happen to ask you?"

"Yeah, but I've got a question of my own," said Rick.

"Ask away!"

"How exactly did you meet this Meela woman? I want the truth."

Jonathan hesitated, the anxious smile disappearing before it could reach its full brightness, and he leaned against the wall with a final air of defeat. "It's actually a very short story. I was in this smoky little bar a few months ago, playing cards with Lock-Nah and some other fellows. Lock-Nah got his knickers in a twist and said I cheated—complete and utter poppycock, of course—and probably would have killed me if Meela hadn't stepped forward. She knew I had gotten something that she wanted, so we made a deal, the massive brute set me free, and that was that."

"That was that," Rick echoed skeptically.

"Yes. Now, uh... what about that question?" Jonathan eyed Rick hopefully, his entire body poised for an anticipated delight. "I suppose you gave Meela an answer."

"I told her I'd do it."

"Oh, good. But you mustn't tell Lucy, of course. I want this to be a surprise."

"No problem."

"And her husband mustn't know either."

"Got it."

"And — and you really ought to get something nice so we can have tea. Cucumber sandwiches, perhaps, or some scones. I'll pay for it all, of course! I don't want you to go to any trouble." Jonathan spoke quickly, full of nervous energy, and shot an uncertain grin at Rick. "Do you think Lucy will want to see me again? It's been so dreadfully long."

"I wouldn't worry about that," said Rick, thinking of Lucy stuck in her lovely white house with Beni for company, day in and day out. "There's still one thing that bothers me, though."

"If you don't want tea, I can get something else. Some of that horrid coffee you Americans are so fond of. Only good for easing a hangover, if you ask me, but—"

"No," said Rick. "It isn't that."

Jonathan breathed a sigh of relief, though the restless energy remained. "Good, good. What is it, then?"

"How does Meela know about you and Lucy?"

"Oh, _that_." The grin quickly returned. "I drank a bit too much and Meela had to drive me home to Evy's place. I'm afraid I blathered on terribly and spilled the whole story. Why don't we find some of those cocktails I mentioned earlier and see if Evy's pottering about somewhere? I think it does her some good to chat with a man who isn't all rotted flesh and bone. What do you say?"

Rick agreed, not because he looked forward to more time spent in Jonathan's company, but because he hoped to make sense of the tangled web he had been thrust into that evening. He joined Jonathan at the cocktail bar, remaining silent while Jonathan talked amiably about everything and nothing, as if trying to hurry the night along so that day would arrive and bring Lucy with it, nudging her back into an empty life that had waited five long years to see her face once more.


	9. A temporary relief

Sam and Violet Henderson lived in an apartment situated in the "tourist" side of town, where the museums, shops, and hotels beckoned to eager travelers who hoped to find gold under every rock and ancient ruins on every corner. The Hendersons' apartment was clean and spacious with plenty of fresh air, but still an apartment nonetheless, and Beni felt stifled as he entered the building and crept up the stairs. The place was new enough to have an elevator, but Beni had never trusted those contraptions and avoided them at all costs, preferring the reliable use of his own two legs.

The expensive clothes on his back only made him feel more stifled. His shirt was uncomfortable, with its stiff collar and endless amount of buttons, and he could never get used to ties, even after wearing them for nearly two whole years. He couldn't even tie the damn things himself; Lucy always had to do it for him and tied the intricate knot so swiftly that Beni found it impossible to copy her movements. Still, he would rather wear a tie and see Violet than stay at home with Lucy, who was infuriatingly cheerful after O'Connell came to have breakfast with them that morning. O'Connell could do no wrong in Lucy's eyes. He was so _kind_ , so _interesting_ , but he obviously wasn't so great when Beni was the one she chose to sleep with instead.

Beni smirked to himself as he reached the end of the stairs that led to the Hendersons' floor. At least he had one thing that O'Connell would never have, if Beni could help it. One thing that _no_ man would ever have, as long as Lucy didn't get restless and realize that the grass probably _was_ greener on the other side.

Sam Henderson welcomed him with a hearty slap on the back, one of his cheeks bulging with a wad of tobacco. "Well howdy, Mr. Gabor," he said. He was ridiculous, every word an exaggeration of the American Wild West. "What brings you to our neck of the woods? Come to do a little buyin'?"

Henderson was only nice to Beni because he knew he had a lot of money. Beni swallowed his annoyance and said, "Yes." Provoked by the greedy grin on Henderson's face, he couldn't help adding, "How is your wife?"

"Violet? She's doin' mighty fine. Now why don't you'n me head over to the back? I've got this new lil' beauty I want to show ya, just arrived the other day."

Beni scowled at Henderson's back and followed him through the apartment, nearly tripping over the tall spittoon that sat on the floor. He could hear Henderson chewing his tobacco, a filthy American habit that Violet complained about loudly and often, and tried to hide his disgust when Henderson took him to the back room where he did his underground business. The room was bare aside from a wooden table, a couple of matching chairs, and a number of crates and suitcases stacked against the walls. Beni only came to the apartment as an excuse to see Violet, but Henderson thought Beni was a gun collector who came to buy the firearms he sold. He never sold to Arabs as a rule, so Beni bought up his guns, then turned around and sold them to Arab men at nearly twice the price that Henderson charged, without Henderson suspecting a thing. The man may have been an expert on guns, but he had no head for business.

Henderson grabbed a suitcase, slammed it on the table, and opened it to reveal a dozen small, shiny pistols packed into two neat rows. "Got me a whole shipment of these," he said, talking around his wad of tobacco. "These're quieter than your average pistol, and I swear to the good Lord above that they're a sight more accurate too. You'll never miss a shot with one of these babies in your hand."

"You have said that about a lot of guns," said Beni.

"But I'm right every time, ain't I? Anyway, this beaut here is somethin' special. Lemme show ya."

Beni pretended to be interested as Henderson took one of the pistols and showed him every excruciating detail, but he paid little real attention and nearly jumped when Henderson spat a thick stream of tobacco juice into his nearby spittoon. Beni finally agreed to buy one of the guns, knowing he could make a small profit later, and followed Henderson out of the back room and out to the front of the apartment, where Violet had arranged herself in an armchair, an open magazine spread over her lap. She winked at Beni when Henderson wasn't looking, then signaled that she would meet him later. She had apparently forgiven him for the incident at the restaurant, when Beni spilled wine all over her dress, and probably coaxed some lonely fool into getting her a new one.

Henderson held the front door open, eager for Beni to leave now that he had gotten some of his money. "Pleasure doin' business with ya, Mr. Gabor."

"Oh, yes," said Beni, fighting the smirk that threatened to give him away. "It is _always_ a pleasure."

"See you later, Mr. Gabor!" Violet called out.

Beni bid them both goodbye and left the apartment with his newly purchased pistol hidden under his jacket. Twenty minutes later Violet came out to meet him, a wide-brimmed hat on her head and beaded necklaces draped around her neck, and insisted that they shop in the crowded market held a few streets away. She brought along a basket for the occasion, carefully covered with a piece of cloth, and Beni knew her basket wouldn't stay empty once her lightning-fast fingers got to work. Unlike the other pickpockets who lurked in the markets, Violet didn't need to steal, but she confided to Beni that it gave her a thrill. She simply enjoyed it.

"I can't believe you _buy_ those horrible old guns," she told Beni as she got into his car. "What on earth do you do with them?"

"I store them all in a room somewhere," Beni lied. The secret to his success was keeping his mouth shut around Violet. "What excuse did you make to your husband this time?"

"Oh, the usual one," said Violet. "I told him I have a friend who lives on the other side of town. He's so gullible, he doesn't even question me when I come home late."

Beni started the car and drove the short distance to the marketplace, aware that a brief trip in his fast, expensive car was a glorious treat to a woman who dreamed of splendid things and envied those who had them. Rich, spoiled girls like Lucy were a wonderful conquest, but nothing Beni did could ever impress Lucy; certainly not when Lucy was the one who showered him with wealth and bought him the sleek car that zipped along Cairo's streets with his mistress in the passenger seat. Violet, on the other hand, looked upon Beni's wealth with wide-eyed wonder, viewing him as a temporary relief from her dull life with Henderson, and she enjoyed dragging him to all the elite spots in town, which included the opera, fine restaurants, and fancy hotels.

Having successfully pilfered the market to her heart's content, Violet grew restless after their shopping excursion and sidled closer to Beni, dropping hints about going to her favorite hotel and having expensive drinks together. "I'm _so_ darn thirsty," she declared, looking at Beni with round, pleading eyes. "Sam never takes me out for drinks. He'd rather sit in a bar with his loudmouth pals, knocking back straight whiskey."

It was always _Sam never did this_ or _Sam never did that._ Beni wished she would give it a rest. "We will have drinks later," he said. "I'm taking you home."

"Aw, Beni, don't be a wet blanket. I could probably convince some idiot to let us use his hotel room for an hour, if I butter him up the right way."

As tempted as he was by the idea of fancy drinks and an hour with Violet in a hotel room bed, Beni had never intended to stay out all day. A minor worry had been teasing the edge of his mind for hours, a worry about Lucy and the fact that O'Connell was back in town for a good long while. Lucy had never shown any romantic interest in O'Connell before, but if she ever _did_ fall for O'Connell than Beni certainly wouldn't stand for it. He had been second place for too many years to sit aside while some brawny idiot came barging into his home and made love to his wife.

No, Beni wasn't going to let that happen. Maybe he _would_ take Lucy out sometime, just to ensure that she and her money stayed with him, though he was more aware than ever before that women were absolutely tiring. They always wanted something. They never stopped asking for things. Whether he spent his time with Lucy or with Violet, it was all the same, but he supposed it was all worth it to be rich and drive a nice car and mingle with Cairo's white upper class, even if people _did_ look at him and only see his money. Better to be rich and liked for shallow reasons than poor and shunned by society. He never wanted to sleep on another doorstep for as long as he lived, or get mocked for wearing old, ragged clothes. Better to put up with his wife and his mistress, with all their little annoyances, than spend his nights on a sagging mattress with some disease-ridden whore.

"I promise we will go out later," Beni added to Violet.

He hated making promises, but he couldn't lose Violet and he couldn't lose his wife either, not when they had both made him so comfortable. Not when he was determined to maintain control over his life, now that he finally had the means to control it in the first place.


	10. Feelings that lay dormant

Lucy sat at her vanity table, painting her lips a cheery shade of red, and briefly glanced at the clock reflected in the mirror. Beni left ten minutes ago and said he would be gone for at least an hour, which would hopefully give Lucy enough time to slip down to Rick's house and have lunch. She didn't understand all the secrecy, but Rick pulled her aside during his breakfast at the Gabors that morning, while Beni went off to find a cigarette, and specifically requested that she come to his house without bringing Beni. She supposed it was only fair that she have her little secret, when Beni had so many secrets of his own. He said he was going out to get some oil in his car and buy some new shoes, but she knew Beni was slipping out to see his mistress instead. He was always slipping off to see his mistress and usually came back before dinner, too restless to stay at home and too helpless to leave permanently.

Satisfied with her reflection, Lucy got up and found the heels she wanted to wear. As she sat down and slid them on, she entertained the notion that Rick might be in love with her, and that he invited her to lunch as an excuse to be alone with her, but she quickly dismissed the idea. Rick wasn't sneaky or dishonest. He wouldn't fool around with another man's wife.

Rick was much too good to fall in love with her, anyway. He was always much too good.

A glance at the clock told her that she had better hurry, or she would never make it back in time to pretend she never left. As she went down the stairs she met Agnes, the nursemaid, who informed her that Gabriel had just been fed and would likely nap through the afternoon. Lucy thanked Agnes and promised to check up on Gabriel later. He really _was_ a dear little boy, when he wasn't fussing.

Cairo was as hot and sunny as ever when she stepped outside, the sky an endless stretch of blue that rarely changed from day to day, and Lucy pulled down the brim of her hat as she hurried from the house to the garage, seeking shelter from the dizzying rays overhead. She had lived in Egypt for nearly four years and still struggled to embrace the weather that many tourists found delightful. Even Beni, the eternal complainer, didn't mind the heat as much as she did. He said he would rather be too warm than suffer through the hard, snowy winters of his childhood, in which the poor and homeless curled up to sleep on the chilly streets and froze to death in the night.

Lucy had her own car, the same one she drove long before she was married, and she set off towards the address where Rick resided. Though she had exchanged letters with him since his arrival in Cairo, Lucy had never seen his home and knew nothing about it aside from the vague, modest description Rick had given. She knew about the mansion, too, but nothing could prepare her for the gorgeous mountain of a house that loomed up before her and towered over the street like one of the great pyramids that reigned over the desert. She slowed her car so she could marvel at the rows of windows, the intricately carved doors, and the overall feeling of immenseness that swept over her as she gazed at the home where a man named Carnahan resided. Jonathan would certainly love to dwell in such a place. He had always been fond of the extravagant and was dazzled by gold, jewels, and all the bright trappings that came with great wealth. He would spend his days in an actual palace and live like a king if he could, surrounding himself with all the costly beauty that gave him such pleasure.

But the Mr. Carnahan who lived in this mansion couldn't possibly be Jonathan. His parents once had money, but they died terribly in debt when Jonathan was only a boy, leaving him and his sister to live on the charity of their relatives. Lucy looked away from the mansion, feeling silly, and continued down the road until she found the ordinary little house that was shadowed by the splendor next door. Rick came out to meet her car, dressed in a plain white shirt under dark, serviceable suspenders, and she decided that the little house suited him.

"Couldn't get enough of me?" Lucy teased, giving him a bright, sparkling smile as he came to help her out of the car. "We just saw each other this morning!"

"You're always saying you want to see the house," said Rick.

"And I _do_! It's a darling little place."

Rick didn't say much as he took her up to the house, preferring to let Lucy fill the air with her delighted comments on how glad she was to finally set foot in his home, and how much more exciting Cairo had become now that Rick was back to stay. And she truly _was_ glad. She enjoyed being in Rick's company as much as she did before he left; perhaps more than ever, when her other option was sitting at home waiting for Beni to come back and find something new to complain about.

The inside of Rick's house was just as sensible as the outside, with simple furniture and pictures on the walls that were probably left by the previous tenant, and Lucy didn't feel smothered in spite of the small rooms and narrow halls. Perhaps it was Rick's reassuring presence, or perhaps it was the freedom of going where she pleased without the scrawny shadow of her husband hovering behind her.

"Why don't you, uh, go in the living room?" Rick asked. He was a clumsy host, awkward and endearing. "I'll bring out the tea and everything."

"You're full of surprises, Rick!" said Lucy. "You actually had tea prepared?"

"Wasn't sure if you wanted that or coffee. I've got both."

"Tea would be wonderful."

"Good." Rick seemed a little uneasy about something, though Lucy couldn't imagine what. "I'll be right back."

Rick disappeared, leaving Lucy to wait in the living room, and she wandered around to look at the decor and the guns of various sizes that filled the room, mounted upon the walls like trophies. Rick hadn't lost his passion for firearms. Lucy had nearly completed her leisurely circuit about the room when the sound of footsteps reached her ears, moving slowly through the hall, and she abruptly stopped walking in the hope that Rick wouldn't catch her wandering around. She looked over the plain furniture, trying to decide which seat was most comfortable, when the footsteps arrived and a voice that wasn't Rick's murmured, "Good Lord."

Lucy turned around to find Jonathan Carnahan staring at her, all the color drained from his face, and she let out a little gasp. "It _is_ you," she said quietly, mostly to herself. She quickly recovered and forced herself to laugh, resisting the urge to run away and hide somewhere. "I'm so glad to see you. It's been so long!"

"Yes," Jonathan said distractedly. "Yes, it has."

She didn't dare to believe that Jonathan lived next door to Rick, yet here he was, standing before her looking nervous and flustered, his eyes showing the evidence of hard drinking the night before. He looked like he hadn't slept.

"Won't you sit down?" Lucy asked, her voice light and cheerful, pretending that all was well.

She chose an armchair for herself and expected Jonathan to sit nearby, but he chose a sofa on the other side of the room and perched upon it rigidly, as if expecting it to devour him any second. Rick came back into the room with a tray in his arms and paused for a moment, looking uncertainly from Lucy to Jonathan, then strode forward and set the tray on the little table that sat by Lucy.

"Hope you guys are thirsty," said Rick. He was grasping for something to say, struck by the tension in the room, and grabbed a sandwich from the tray before settling down in the remaining empty armchair.

For a moment Lucy sat in silence, listening to Rick take bites out of his sandwich. She was terrified, afraid of the feelings that lay dormant for five long years, and was more aware than ever before that she was Beni's wife. "Rick and I are old friends," she said, turning to Jonathan with the forced smile she had perfected over the years. "How amazing it is that the three of us _all_ know each other! I love those kinds of coincidences."

"Ah, yes," said Jonathan. He tried to look everywhere but Lucy's face, but occasionally his eyes would find her for just an instant, before nervously darting away. "It's a splendid coincidence, isn't it?"

"And in Egypt, of all places! How long have you been here?"

"Oh, six months or so. A cousin of ours saw Evy's potential as an Egyptologist and funded our trip out here. Evy was ecstatic, of course. Always wanted to see the old desert and pyramids and all that."

"Six months!" Lucy exclaimed. "And I never saw you, all this time. Of course, I don't go out very often..." She trailed off, her eyes straying down to the little gold ring on her hand.

Jonathan chuckled uncomfortably. "I, uh, heard you were married."

"Almost two years now. But I'm sure you don't want to hear about _that_."

Lucy remembered the tea and quickly poured herself a cup, dangerously close to spilling the kettle's contents all over the carpet. Jonathan came up for his own cup of tea, busying himself with adding meticulous amounts of cream and sugar, and Lucy's heart pounded at his nearness. How could he have returned to her life so abruptly after such a long absence? She wanted to stay in that living room forever, yet at the same time she longed to disappear. She was grateful for Rick's presence in the room; if it wasn't for him, she might have broken down into tears or done something equally foolish, and she smiled at Rick through the overwhelming haze of nerves and emotion.

"You must think we're terribly rude, chattering on without including you at all," she told him.

"It's not a problem," said Rick.

"Well I can't bear to leave you out. You're probably wondering how Jonathan and I know each other, aren't you? I'll tell you the story, if you want."

"Sure," Rick said in his simple, direct way.

She told him the short version of the story, with some input from Jonathan, of how her family was living in Chicago five years ago. They went to visit her great-uncle, who lived just outside of London, and stayed for more than three months in his big, gloomy house, which Lucy detested and tried to escape whenever she could.

"About a week after we arrived, I wandered into one of those charming little English pubs one day," Lucy explained. "And I ended up sitting near Jonathan, who told the funniest stories. We saw each other often after that, until I had to go back to America, and then we just sort of... lost track of each other."

"Which is a bloody easy thing to do, when there's a whole ocean between you," said Jonathan.

She didn't tell Rick how much she had grown to love Jonathan in the space of three months, or how her family claimed that he was nothing but a shiftless, drunken layabout who would never amount to anything, and who certainly didn't deserve Lucy. She didn't tell him that she intended to run off with Jonathan, or that her family practically dragged her away before she could carry out her plans. She didn't tell him that she struggled to forgive her family, or that she got back at them by marrying a man who was much, much worse than the English rascal they thought they despised.

The subject changed to Egypt, which saved them all with its arid ground, cloudless skies, and sweltering afternoons that the three of them were well acquainted with, and Lucy was relieved that Jonathan didn't ask about Beni. Instead she told him how her family caught the Egyptomania that had seized the Western world and moved to Cairo nearly four years ago, a year after the England trip.

"But what about _you_ , Jonathan?" she asked. "What have you been doing in Egypt all this time? How did you get that lovely mansion next door?"

"Well, now, that's a story for another time," said Jonathan, grinning sheepishly over his tea. "Why don't we wander on over and I'll show you Castle Carnahan from top to bottom? You too, O'Connell."

"Nah, you two go ahead," said Rick. "I'll stay here."

"What do you say, my dear?" said Jonathan, looking at Lucy in a way that broke through all her defenses, making her willing to do anything in the world, as long as he was the one who asked.

"Oh, yes," Lucy said softly. "I would like that very much."


	11. Harsh reality

Lucy came home in a daze, her head spinning with all she had seen and done in the last hour. She was in awe of Jonathan's glorious mansion, in awe of the fact that Jonathan spent his days and nights among countless rooms and richly furnished halls, all alone with nobody but servants for company. All of her shyness disappeared as Jonathan took her from room to room, displaying his wealth with pride, though he wouldn't tell her just _how_ he acquired the money to live in such extravagance. He said it would ruin the magic if he told her.

She was both surprised and a little relieved to learn that Evelyn didn't share Jonathan's home. She felt guilty for feeling that way, but she always got the sense that Evelyn disapproved of her, and that she thought Lucy was terribly frivolous. Evelyn probably thought the mansion was terribly frivolous as well, especially for one bachelor, but Lucy liked frivolous things. The mansion was fun and beautiful, full of discoveries that would take days to explore, and it was even more lovely because Jonathan lived there. He hadn't changed at all from the man she knew in England, though Lucy was horribly aware of the fact that _she_ had changed over the years, and that Jonathan either didn't notice or chose not to care.

He was still the same old Jonathan, as fun and jovial as ever, but she noticed he was unusually careful as he took her from room to room and delighted in her reactions. She could feel his eyes on her every time she had her back turned, but he never dared to touch her, though he looked as if he wanted to whenever their eyes met. There were so many memories between them, so many lost moments they would never get back, that Lucy was relieved that he never laid a finger upon her, for it would have spoiled the beautiful dream they had entered together. Touching her would have made it all too real, and Lucy wasn't ready for harsh reality to rear its ugly head and interrupt their reunion.

Jonathan hadn't asked when he could see her again, though the question showed plainly in his eyes. Perhaps she would surprise him and show up at his door someday, startling him with her presence the way he startled her in Rick's living room.

Perhaps she would visit him every day and keep it a beautiful secret all to herself, allowing nobody, not even Rick, to intrude upon the two of them. She had five years of lost time hanging over her head, haunting her every movement, and she wanted to fling it all away and pretend it had never been.

She had forgotten all about Beni until she opened the garage and found his roadster sitting in its usual spot. Of course he would come home earlier than she expected, when the one thing she wanted most in the world was to shut herself in her room and be alone. Formulating excuses in her head, Lucy put her car away and crept into the house, shutting the front door as quietly as possible. If she was lucky, Beni would be in the back of the house drinking or smoking, or both, and wouldn't see her if she snuck up the stairs.

The house was quiet as she made her way through the front hall and up to the second floor. Even Gabriel didn't make a sound and Lucy's worries subsided as she reached the top of the stairs. She would check on Gabriel, but not right now. Nothing was allowed to break through the dream-like sensation that kept her afloat, filling her up with an improbable mixture of joy and terror, and she drifted down the upstairs hall until she reached the private sanctuary of her little parlor, where her luxurious chaise lounge beckoned to her. She wanted to lie about and close her eyes and speak to nobody for hours. She wanted to pretend everything was right in her shattered, upside-down little world.

Lucy opened the door and found Beni relaxing on the chaise lounge, a lit cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. He looked as if he had been there for a while and sat up straighter, swinging his legs over the side so that his feet touched the floor.

"Where were you?" he asked.

Lucy stood in the doorway, frozen at the sight of him. "I went for a drive."

"Where?"

"Around the neighborhood. I wanted to get out because you never take me anywhere."

Beni frowned, his cigarette forgotten. "You always write a note when you leave."

"I forgot this time."

"I think you are lying to me," said Beni.

His Hungarian accent grated on her ears after an hour's worth of Jonathan's pleasant English voice. Lucy knew perfectly well that she _was_ lying, but she wouldn't let Beni have the satisfaction of being right. "Why would I lie to you?" she demanded. "I went for a drive and forgot to tell you. What's so suspicious about that?"

"You don't even like to drive," Beni pointed out. "You only do it when you have to go somewhere."

He was nothing but a greedy little foreigner, but he was smart. Lucy didn't like the way he watched her, waiting for her to betray herself, and all of her clever excuses wilted away in her mind. "There's no use arguing with you," she said.

"Because you know I am right."

"You're not always right. You just constantly think you are."

"But I'm right _this_ time. Where did you go?"

Lucy strode up to Beni and snatched the cigarette from his mouth, then trampled it under her heel. "I'm tired of this. Get out."

"You can't tell me what to do," he said, mocking her. "I am your husband."

"And you're a lousy husband. Can't I do anything without you breathing down my neck?"

"What the hell does that even mean?"

"It's an expression, and it's exactly what you're doing. Why do you care about my whereabouts, anyway?"

Beni stood up, his face just inches from hers. Though he was nowhere near as tall as Rick, he was still taller than Lucy and was stronger than he looked. "You have been too happy since O'Connell came to town."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"I'm not stupid. I know O'Connell is a handsome man."

She couldn't believe what he was implying. Lucy would be a liar if she said Rick wasn't attractive, but there had never been anything more than harmless friendship between them. There never _would_ be anything more. "What's that supposed to mean, Beni?"

"You know exactly what I mean. O'Connell has always liked you."

"You're crazy," she said. "Rick is your friend. He would never betray you like that."

"You had better be right." Beni moved past her, sending her a little glare over his shoulder as he stalked over to the doorway. "Next time you go out, leave a note." His voice was bitter, lacking its usual sarcastic edge, and he slammed the door behind him as he left the parlor.

Lucy sank into the chair that sat before her vanity table, unable to sit down in the spot Beni vacated, and stared at the door for a long moment. Beni's jealousy was nothing new, but she always used to brush it aside, knowing it was all petty nonsense that Beni dreamed up because he could never be happy. It was still petty nonsense, since she wasn't unfaithful to him, but Jonathan had found his way back into her life, and she knew she would choose Jonathan over Beni if she was given the choice.

Nearly two long years of marriage and she hadn't had a single affair. Beni had no right to accuse her of infidelity when he constantly went out to see his mistress, leaving her alone with the servants and the baby, and it would be his own fault if she _did_ have an affair. He deserved a taste of his own medicine, as far as Lucy was concerned.

She had always wanted her marriage with Beni to work. She really, truly did, but Beni made it so difficult. Perhaps impossible.


	12. Self-satisfied privilege

Rick wiped the perspiration from his brow and sat down on an overturned crate so he could take a long, much-needed swig from his canteen. Giza Port was a swarm of activity that day and the sun showed no mercy, glaring down upon him as he worked for hours on end. He was surprised to see a familiar roadster enter the port and wondered if Beni intended to take a trip down the Nile, until the car headed right towards him and slowed to a halt, the front tires stopping just a few feet from Rick. He hadn't seen Beni in three days, though his old friend had crossed his mind many times since Rick arranged the meeting between Jonathan and Lucy, and he couldn't bring himself to feel guilty for inviting Lucy to lunch. Beni was his friend, but Lucy was a friend as well, and she deserved some happiness after everything she had been through.

Beni poked his head through the window of his car, a thin white cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. He removed the cigarette, a puff of smoke escaping from his mouth as he exhaled, and smirked at Rick in a superior way, safely sheltered within his car while Rick boiled beneath the sun. Wealth hadn't changed him for the better.

"Good afternoon, my friend," said Beni.

Rick took another swig from his canteen and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "What are you doing here, Beni?"

"I wanted to know if you are busy."

"I just got off work."

"Then that means you are not busy." Beni raised the cigarette to his lips and took a smug drag on it, his eyes fixed on Rick. "I'm meeting someone for drinks and want you to come along. I think you will like this man."

Rick didn't budge from his seat on the crate. "Why's that?"

"He likes guns as much as you do. He has a little business he keeps quiet from the police, buying and selling guns all over town."

"Where are you meeting this guy?"

"The Pharaoh's Crown. I would offer you a ride in my car, but I just had it cleaned." Beni smirked, his cigarette clasped lazily between his fingers. "But of course you have got your own car. Does that thing still run?"

"Yeah," said Rick. "It still runs."

"Probably not for long. I'll see you at the Crown, O'Connell." Beni made it an order, not a request, and stuck his head back into his car so he could drive away, still wearing that smirk that came from self-satisfied privilege. Rick was surprised he didn't hire a driver to chauffeur him around town, but he supposed Beni didn't trust anyone else with his precious car.

Beni had always been like that with his possessions, even in his squalid past when his possessions were few and in poor condition. He had always been petty and childish too, but his newly acquired money had made him obnoxious, and Rick preferred the old desperate, scrounging Beni in his threadbare clothes to the new Beni who flaunted his wealth as if he were the first person to ever become rich. Still, Beni was a friend, even if their friendship had always been complicated, and Rick felt he owed Beni a few hours of his time here and there after his long absence from Cairo.

He got into his old junk heap of a car, the best he could afford after spending money in Rome, Shanghai, and New York, among other cities scattered across the globe, and rumbled his way out of the port and into the direction Beni headed, where bars like the Pharaoh's Crown lured tourists and would-be millionaires with their flashy names that promised fame and ancient fortunes. The name of the bar was misleading; the Pharaoh's Crown was a dark, smoky little joint that specialized in selling cheap whiskey to a crowd of crude, unkempt gamblers and the occasional prostitute. When Rick arrived at the bar and entered its crowded, hazy room, he found Beni lounging at a table near the back, looking as fidgety as ever despite his relaxed posture. A new cigarette dangled like an afterthought between his fingers. The man who sat across from him looked much more at ease, the picture of carefree leisure aside from his jaw, which constantly moved up and down to chew the tobacco stuffed into his mouth.

"O'Connell." Beni sat up straighter, grinning as Rick approached his table. "How nice of you to join us. This is Sam Henderson."

Mr. Henderson, who wore a cowboy hat and a neckerchief, stopped chewing so he could greet Rick and shake his hand. "Pleasure to meet'cha, O'Connell," he said in a slight drawl.

"O'Connell collects guns," Beni said smugly. "That is how we became friends. I was collecting rifles and somebody said I should talk to O'Connell, because he knew how to find the best ones."

"Funny," Rick said under his breath. "That's not how I remember it." As far as he knew, Beni had no interest in guns because they weren't made of gold, jewels, or anything flashy. According to Beni, guns were nothing more than dangerous bits of metal that ought to be avoided, rather than treated as prized possessions.

Beni heard Rick's muttered response and kicked him under the table. "Yes, well I think you two will have a lot to talk about," he told Henderson. "You are both American. You speak the same language."

"Ya like whiskey, O'Connell?" Henderson asked around his mouthful of tobacco.

"Sure," said Rick.

"Two shots of whiskey it is, then."

"What about me?" Beni complained. "I would like to have a drink too."

"Why don't _you_ mosey up to the bar and order the drinks, then? You got plenty of money, don'tcha?" Henderson flashed a lazy grin at Beni. "Enough money to get every fella in this bar good and drunk, if ya wanted. Ain't that right?"

"All right, I will buy the drinks," Beni grumbled. He glared at Henderson when he wasn't looking and scurried off to the bar, leaving Rick and Henderson to stare at each other for a good long moment. Henderson stopped chewing his tobacco, storing it in the side of his mouth, and swiftly broke the silence.

"That Beni Gabor's a weasel if I ever saw one," he said. "But even weasels are worth hangin' around if they've got their pockets filled."

"How did you meet Beni anyway?" Rick asked.

"He's a customer of mine. He sure don't look it, but he knows a good piece of work when he sees it. Sold him the purtiest lil' pistol you ever saw, just the other day."

"Really," said Rick. Beni had never been good at lying, no matter how much he enjoyed doing it, but Henderson seemed convinced that Beni was a passionate gun collector. Either Beni had improved his skills over the last couple of years, or Henderson really was as gullible as he looked.

Beni returned to their table, a sulky look on his face as he tried to carry three shots of liquor without spilling a drop. Once the drinks were safely on the table he slumped back into his seat, his eyes darting suspiciously from Rick to Henderson. "How is your wife?" he asked Henderson. "It is too bad she couldn't meet O'Connell."

Henderson grinned, revealing teeth stained with tobacco juice. "She wouldn't come to a place like this, even if I asked her. She's got some highfalutin taste, Violet does."

"Yes," Beni agreed with a smirk.

"You married, O'Connell?" Henderson asked Rick.

"No."

"It ain't a bad thing at all, bein' married. I woulda never settled down in this country if I didn't have Violet keepin' me company."

"I would imagine that Violet is very good at that," Beni remarked. He took a swig from his shot glass, draining the alcohol inside it, though Rick could see that the corners of his mouth had curved into another smirk.

It dawned on him that Henderson's wife was probably Beni's mistress, which would explain Beni's sudden interest in firearms. A surge of annoyance rose within Rick as he watched Beni set his empty shot glass down on the table; an annoyance that bristled at everything he had learned about Beni since his return to Cairo. He kept his thoughts to himself and chatted with Henderson, who possessed an impressive array of knowledge about weaponry, and when it was time to leave the smoky bar and step outside into the hot, blinding sunlight, his annoyance towards Beni had cooled into a bleak little ripple of regret. The old Beni wasn't a lot better than the new one, but he was preferable to the snide social climber who skulked around in his costly suits and looked down on the men who once stood above him.

Still, Beni was his friend in spite of all his faults, and Rick didn't turn his back on a friend.

"Why, O'Connell! This is a splendid surprise!"

Rick and Beni stood just outside the Pharaoh's Crown, ready to get into their respective cars and go their separate ways, when Jonathan Carnahan came strolling up with a grin that seemed more carefree than ever. His reunion with Lucy appeared to agree with him.

"Jonathan," said Rick. "I was just leaving."

"Oh, well that's a pity. Though I suppose I'll see you on Saturday night, eh?"

"Yeah." Rick noticed that Beni had stuck around and watched them with obvious interest. "Uh, this is my friend Beni Gabor," he told Jonathan.

Jonathan gazed at Beni in bewilderment, blinking at him as if he were some strange creature he had never seen before, and at last regained his composure with a hearty chuckle. "Ah, so _you're_ Beni Gabor. I'm acquainted with your wife, you know. I'm Jonathan Carnahan."

Beni kept his distance from Jonathan, a malicious little smile on his lips. "I've heard of you. The man with the fancy house and the fancy parties." His poisonous smile rapidly gave way to a frown. "But how do you know my wife?"

"We're old friends," Jonathan said in that breezy tone he used whenever he wanted to brush past the details and leave them far behind, where no one would try to look for them. "Haven't seen her in years, actually. I say, I don't believe I've ever seen you at one of my parties, have I?"

"My wife and I don't go out much."

"Well you're quite welcome to drop in this weekend, since you're a friend of O'Connell's and all."

"Yes," said Beni, his eyes boring into Jonathan. "Maybe I'll show up. Maybe I'll bring Lucy too."

"That would certainly be splendid, wouldn't it, O'Connell?"

"Sure would," Rick said quietly.

"Then I will see you later, Mr. Carnahan," Beni said mockingly. He slunk away and disappeared into the depths of his flashy car. Rick listened to the roar of his engine, feeling as if something significant had just taken place, until Jonathan spoke again.

"Good Lord, was that really Lucy's husband?"

Rick couldn't blame him for the question. He could still hardly believe it himself. "Yeah, that's him."

"My word, how could she marry a man like him? She told me the whole story, of course, about her little boy needing a father and all that, but I never expected him to be so... _unsightly_."

Rick remained silent.

"I suppose it's something of a relief, though," said Jonathan, looking at Rick with bright eyes. "Lucy can't possibly love an ugly little fellow like that. She'd leave him in a heartbeat if she had the chance."

"It's complicated," said Rick, though he didn't see the point in trying to argue. He barely understood the situation himself.

"In a bloody heartbeat," Jonathan repeated triumphantly. "You'll see, O'Connell."

Rick wasn't sure if he shared Jonathan's optimism, but there was nothing he could say. He bid farewell to his neighbor and headed for home, leaving Jonathan to lose himself in the bar's smoky haze.


	13. Weary of the tangled web

Throughout the days leading up to Jonathan's latest party, Beni continued to meet Rick after work and insisted on taking him to bars and restaurants, as long as Rick paid for his own food and drink. He even brought Lucy one time, though it ended up being the most uncomfortable dinner Rick had ever experienced. Beni kept staring at him and Lucy, as if he expected one of them to burst into flames any moment, and he seemed fixated on the idea of Rick socializing with Mr. Henderson, among other people. It was good to keep busy, he kept telling Rick, and abruptly changed the subject every time Rick and Lucy tried to have a conversation.

If Lucy found her husband's behavior strange, she didn't show it. She merely smiled at Rick whenever Beni happened to look elsewhere and spent most of her time commenting on the food in gushing detail, sneaking in a playful wink or two when Beni absorbed himself in his wineglass. The only time she lost her composure was when Beni mentioned his plans to attend Jonathan's party that weekend. Her eyes grew brighter, her smile more strained, and she cut her food so vigorously that her fork and knife threatened to fly from her hands. It was in that moment that Rick realized how delicate the situation was between Jonathan, Lucy, and everyone who was closely involved in their desperate, lonely lives. Every moment was precarious, balanced upon a dangerous edge that could give way any second, and a single word or significant look could shatter the whole beautiful dreamworld that Lucy had found through meeting Jonathan again.

Rick kept his mouth carefully shut that night. He continued to keep it shut when the evening of Jonathan's party arrived and Beni's familiar car traveled up the drive in search of the most conspicuous parking space. Rick didn't have to be in the car with Beni to know that he was dying to show off his roadster to the vibrant crowd of partygoers, even if he would never meet a single one of them, and he watched Beni park close to the mansion where his gleaming vehicle would receive the most glances as people approached Jonathan's front doors in laughing groups of two's and three's.

He caught Jonathan lurking near the large double doors, a cocktail glass sitting neglected in one hand, and knew he was the only one who could guess at Jonathan's reasons for standing outside his home that night. To the rest of the guests Jonathan was merely another loiterer, just a nameless, faceless entity standing beneath Cairo's cloudless, star-studded sky. Nobody but Rick noticed the way Jonathan peered eagerly into the crowd of arriving guests, or the way his fingers tapped nervously against his cocktail glass. Nobody but Rick saw the way his eyes lit up the moment he saw Lucy step out of Beni's roadster, elegantly dressed with her brown hair neatly curled and pinned against her head. She sparkled under the lights that poured from Jonathan's house, though the sight of Beni clutching her arm somewhat tarnished the effect, and Jonathan never took his eyes off her as she walked with her sneering husband up to the house. She spotted Rick first and looked as if she wanted to embrace him, but Beni pulled her closer against his body and she settled for a wave and a smile, looking flushed and excited despite the obvious shackle that held her prisoner.

"Rick, you made it!" she cried. "Isn't the house grand? I never saw such gorgeous windows in all my life."

"They are just windows," Beni scoffed. "Everybody has windows."

"Darling, don't be silly," Lucy told him. "Nobody has windows like _these_!"

Rick cleared his throat. "You, uh, want to head inside?" He was looking specifically at Beni, who scowled at the colossal structure that rose before them in the dark.

"Oh, yes," said Lucy, answering for herself and Beni. "Darling, don't frown so. We're here to have fun!"

"Whatever you say, _my dear_ ," Beni shot back.

Rick led them up the front steps to the wide veranda, where Jonathan continued to loiter. Lucy pretended not to see him, though her anxious eyes and rapid glances gave her away, and Jonathan took a hasty gulp from his cocktail glass, his face suddenly red. "O'Connell, old boy, you made it!" he exclaimed, grinning at Rick. "Lovely night, isn't it? Bit nippy, of course, but I say, just look at those stars!"

"Hello, Jonathan," Lucy spoke up. She looked hopelessly fragile in that moment, caught between her greedy husband and the man she had once loved. "The house is beautiful."

"Yes," said Beni, his eyes fixed on Jonathan. "This looks like a very expensive house. What exactly do you do, Mr. Carnahan?"

" _Beni_ ," Lucy said quietly. "It isn't polite to ask him that."

Jonathan's grin faltered for a moment. "I'm what you'd call a salesman of sorts. Terribly boring, really. Why don't we, ah, head inside and I'll show you about?"

He took a step towards Lucy, ready to take her by the arm, but Beni maintained his possessive grip on his wife and quickly steered her to the door. Jonathan shrugged at Rick and drained the last of the liquor in his cocktail glass.

"What a night, eh?" he said, trying not to watch as Beni made a great show of opening the doors for Lucy.

"Yeah," said Rick. "Is Meela around tonight?"

"Oh, no. She's out of town this week. Very busy woman, you know."

Jonathan grabbed the door, which Beni didn't bother to hold open once Lucy passed through, and hurried into the front hall where Beni and Lucy stood waiting. Rick followed Jonathan at his own steady pace and noticed that Beni's scowl deepened as he took in the sight of the expensive furniture, rugs, and chandeliers that decorated the room. Lucy gazed about with bright eyes, drinking in the whole display in a state of radiant delight, and tore herself from Beni's grasp so she could grab an appetizer from a waiter bearing a tray.

"It's wonderful, Jonathan," she said. "What's the occasion?"

"One doesn't _need_ an occasion to throw a smashing party, my dear," said Jonathan. "You ought to know that. You _are_ American, after all. Now let me show you to the bar..."

Jonathan led her away, talking amiably all the while, and immediately forgot about Rick and Beni and everyone else in the room. Beni shoved his hands into his pockets, his face twisted in an ugly frown, and glanced at Rick.

"He is an idiot," Beni remarked. "These wealthy British men are all idiots. How did he meet my wife?" His tone sounded accusing, as if it were Rick's fault that Jonathan and Lucy were acquainted.

"Why don't you ask Lucy yourself?" said Rick.

"I was hoping _you_ could tell me, my friend. You live next door to this man."

"Doesn't mean I know everything about the guy."

"But you see him a lot. What the hell does he _do_ , anyway?"

Rick's guess was as good as Beni's. Jonathan remained stubbornly close-mouthed on the matter, treating his vast wealth like a joke, and Rick figured it was none of his business to pry. "I don't know," he told Beni honestly. "He never bothered to tell me."

Beni looked at Rick out of the corner of his eye, still frowning, then heaved an impatient little sigh. "I need a drink."

He walked away with his lips pressed tightly in a thin line, looking skinny and awkward among the other laughing guests, and Rick stood by and watched him as he approached Lucy at the bar area. She was still talking to Jonathan, though Rick couldn't hear what they were saying, and at last Rick moved away and started to climb the grand staircase, weary of the tangled web of secrets and lies that grew more knotted by the second. He climbed the stairs until he had reached the third floor and kept walking until he found himself standing near the library, which beckoned to him with its quiet allure.

He stepped inside and found silence. Undeterred, he strode towards the tall rows of bookcases that stretched towards the ceiling and nearly collided with a ladder that stood against one of the cases. Evelyn Carnahan was perched at the very top of the ladder and gasped out loud, dropping the heavy book in her hand. It landed on the floor with a thud.

"O'Connell!" She cried, staring down at him with wide eyes. "You startled me!"

"I can see that," said Rick. He picked up the fallen book and read the title. "Seti I, huh?"

"I'll take that back, if you please," said Evelyn. She reached down to grab the book from his hands and nearly slipped off the ladder. "Oh!"

"I've got ya," said Rick. He immediately dropped the book, letting it thud to the floor a second time, and grabbed the ladder so he could steady it.

Evelyn slowly made her way down the ladder, taking one careful step at a time until her feet were both on the floor. Suddenly embarrassed, she straightened out her skirt and bent to pick up her book, keeping her face turned away from Rick. "Thank you," she said. "That could have been quite a disaster."

"No problem," said Rick.

She finally looked right at him, the heavy book clutched to her chest. "What brings you here on a night like this, O'Connell? I imagine my brother is wondering where you've disappeared to."

"I wouldn't count on it. He's a little... occupied."

"Oh." Evelyn forced out a smile. "I suppose Lucy is here then."

"You know Lucy?"

"Not very well. We didn't have much in common, aside from Jonathan, of course." She drew in a breath, then let it out in a soft sigh. "I don't blame you for helping Jonathan, but the woman is married now. The whole thing is rather, well — _unseemly_."

"Lucy's a friend of mine," Rick said quietly. "I felt I owed her one."

"I'm sorry. I — I didn't realize you and Lucy..." Evelyn trailed off, embarrassed once more.

"It's all right," said Rick. "Why don't we, uh, have a seat over there?" He gestured at the pair of armchairs that sat by the stone fireplace. "You can tell me all about that Seti guy."

Evelyn seemed eager to change the subject and launched into a history of the city of Thebes, which she planned to visit in a few weeks. Rick sat back in his armchair and listened, amazed that this woman knew so much about a civilization that existed long before her time, and allowed the minutes to pleasantly drift on by as the two of them talked about pharaohs and mummies and buried gold. Women like Evelyn—proper, educated women who had little use for a man like him—usually made him nervous, but he grew bolder as the minutes piled up and began to take the shape of an hour. He leaned forward in his seat and cleared his throat.

"I, uh—" Rick began to falter, but a look into Evelyn's eyes reminded him why he had spoken in the first place. "I want to take you to dinner."

"Me?" said Evelyn, looking amazed.

"Yeah. How 'bout tomorrow night? I'll pick you up."

"Why, I don't know how what to say."

"It's either yes or no," said Rick, suddenly feeling like a fool. He had no business asking a woman like Evelyn to have dinner with him, but the words were out in the air, impossible to retrieve.

Evelyn gave him a shy smile, her eyes glittering beneath the electric lights. "What time should I be ready?"


	14. Something so daring

Lucy wasn't enjoying herself as much as she hoped she would. It was lovely to see Jonathan among the glittering splendor of his party, but Beni stuck close to her like a constant shadow and insisted on subtly insulting every detail of Jonathan's home, from the architecture to the wallpaper in the guest rooms. Jonathan appeared oblivious to Beni's remarks. He gazed constantly at Lucy, desperate for her approval as he took her from one amusement to the next, keeping up a stream of cheerful babble that did little to lift her spirits when Beni's presence hovered over her at every moment. She had always been aware of Beni's numerous faults, but his bad manners and poor upbringing became glaringly obvious each time he scoffed at the fancy furniture or made some sarcastic little jibe.

She wondered where Rick had gone. He disappeared nearly an hour ago, leaving Lucy to put on a mask of indifference that made her feel more miserable by the second. She couldn't respond to Jonathan's cheer and forced herself to pay him a minimal amount of attention, for fear that Beni would grow suspicious, and she took a tiny amount of comfort knowing that Beni saw Jonathan as a carefree buffoon and nothing more. She intended to keep it that way.

"I could certainly use another drink," Jonathan said, his voice painfully chipper as he took Lucy and Beni down the main staircase, towards the bar area. "It's terribly thirsty work hosting a party, you know. What about you, Lucy? Need anything to wet the dear old whistle?"

"I'm fine," said Lucy, wishing she could escape the big, depressing house full of people whose lives were more fulfilling than her own. She wished she could go home and hide away in her room with nothing but her own broken dreams for company. She didn't dare look over her shoulder where Beni was lurking behind her, or else she might scream her frustration right then and there, and peeked into Jonathan's nervous, smiling face for just a moment before cowardice overtook her. She hated the way his eyes softened every time he looked her way.

"Well, in that case... I'll only be a minute." Jonathan didn't ask Beni if he wanted a drink and strolled off to the bar, where he disappeared in a whirl of brightly colored guests.

"Let's go outside," said Beni, tugging upon Lucy's arm. "I want some air."

"I'm perfectly fine right here," said Lucy.

"It is too crowded. I can hardly breathe in here."

"Can hardly breathe? You smoke like a chimney with all the windows closed at home!"

"That is different," Beni said with a sneer.

"How is it different? You just want to find fault with everything, don't you?"

Beni glared at her, looking ready to retort with something sarcastic, but he happened to look over her shoulder and spotted something that caught his interest. "Maybe I do," he said slowly, the glare disappearing from his face. "If you want to stay here, then fine. I'm going outside."

He didn't seem to care if Lucy joined him outdoors and vanished from her side, walking away so suddenly that Lucy stared after him for a long time, completely baffled by his behavior. Jonathan reappeared shortly, a full glass in one hand, and did a double-take when he saw Lucy standing alone.

"Beni went outside for some air," Lucy explained.

"Oh," said Jonathan. He took a long sip from his drink, then casually added, "Charming fellow."

Lucy gave him a bitter smile. "You get used to him."

For the first time since she arrived in his yard, she and Jonathan were free to speak to one another without Beni's presence keeping them on edge. Jonathan tossed back some more of his drink, betraying his nerves, and took a bold step closer to Lucy. He glanced around the room before allowing his restless gaze to land upon her face.

"You do look marvelous," he said, turning red as the words left his lips. "Absolutely bloody marvelous."

"I did it for you," Lucy said softly. "Not for Beni. Would you like to go back upstairs?"

"Back upstairs? Why, we were just there a few minutes ago."

"Please, Jonathan. I want to go upstairs and find someplace quiet."

Understanding dawned upon his face and he took her by the arm, touching her for the first time since they were reunited in Rick's living room. Neither of them spoke a word and Lucy thrilled at feeling him so close to her, taking the place that Beni had vacated so abruptly. She put Beni's strange behavior out of her mind and felt as light and happy as a girl as Jonathan took her back up the grand staircase, down the second floor hall where aimless chatter filled every nook and cranny, blending into an unintelligible hum that had no meaning in the beautiful little world that Lucy and Jonathan had built around themselves. She didn't care how many guests saw them together; she would likely never see these people again and even if she did, they couldn't spoil the way it felt to walk through the house on Jonathan's arm, as if she belonged there all along.

Jonathan drew a key out of his pocket and grinned at her as he unlocked a random door. His cocktail had somehow disappeared. "My own private parlor," he said in a hushed voice. "Let's go in, shall we?"

Lucy could only nod, her heart pounding in her chest. She hadn't done something so daring since the day she married Beni.

The private parlor was a cozy little room stuffed with velvety furniture and thick, springy rugs that felt heavenly beneath Lucy's heels. Jonathan relocked the door and fidgeted before it, fussing with his tie, his buttons, anything his fretful hands could reach.

"Well," he said with a chuckle, straightening his collar. "Alone at last."

"Yes," said Lucy. She turned herself around in a slow circle, looking around the quiet sanctuary that had stayed empty just for them. "I think that out of all the rooms in your house, I like this one best of all."

"Do you really?"

"Parlors are such lovely things," she said, seating herself down on a sofa. "And that party was giving me a headache. Why _do_ you throw these parties, anyway?"

He continued to stand by the door, watching her as she fished a cigarette out of her handbag. "Well, if you really must know... I, ah, started throwing these parties hoping you would turn up out of the blue."

The cigarette dropped from her hand and fell to the carpet. "You did?"

"Bit silly of me, really. Evy certainly thinks so. The poor old girl thinks I'm a right fool, lavishing all my money on these mad extravagences, but you know how Evy is. All practicality and no romance, bless her heart." Jonathan quickly ceased babbling and made his awkward way towards her sofa, stooping down to retrieve her cigarette. "Er, let me get that for you..."

"What do you want from me, Jonathan?" Lucy's voice was so quiet that she was afraid he didn't hear her.

He straightened up, cigarette in hand, and peered down at her in befuddlement. "I beg your pardon?"

"Sit down," said Lucy. She patted the empty spot beside her.

Jonathan took a seat and didn't look at her for once, preferring to focus on the cigarette that he kept in his hand, rolling it around in his fingers like it was some absurd toy.

"What exactly do you want from me?" Lucy asked again.

"You ought to know what I want, Lucy. I want to repeat the past, set everything to rights just the way it was before. The whole blessed thing."

"That's impossible. We haven't even seen each other in five years."

"And I spent every blasted day thinking of you. I thought I would have a heart attack when I found out you were right here in Cairo." Jonathan let the cigarette roll out of his fingers and took both her hands in his own, looking into her eyes so beseechingly that her last bit of strength flew away. "Don't you want to live the good old days again? We were both so happy."

She wanted to tell him that no, she couldn't possibly do as he asked. She was married. She had made a vow to a man who would never truly love her, and all the heartfelt pleas in the world couldn't change that. She wanted to pull her hands away and do the sensible thing, but she also wanted Jonathan, and she wasn't going to let him slip away from her a second time.

"Oh, Jonathan," she murmured. "I'm not happy anymore. Sometimes I feel like I'll never be happy again."

"If that awful little fellow who calls himself your husband is hurting you, I'll — well, I'll alert the police. You mark my words."

"He isn't hurting me. He's just... I've done a lot of foolish things since I moved to Egypt. Marrying Beni was the most foolish of all."

"Then leave the miserable blighter if you're unhappy. People might talk for a little while, but they'll move on with their sorry lives and everything will be right as rain." Jonathan gave her hands a reassuring squeeze and released them with a smile. "You'll see."

"It's not that simple, I'm afraid. Beni will never let me divorce him."

"Why not?"

"It's the most ridiculous thing. My family is terribly old-fashioned and detest Beni, but they dislike divorce even more and made it perfectly clear that if I ever divorce him, I'll be cut off without a cent. The same goes for Beni, of course." For nearly two long years Lucy had tolerated her husband, too afraid of poverty to make any attempt to discard him, and now she looked around the parlor with new eyes, taking in the value of every item in the room. "But I suppose it wouldn't be so bad, losing everything," she added, scooting a little closer to Jonathan. "Not when you've got such a big, magnificent house. The two of us could bribe Beni with some outrageous sum, do anything to make him agree to a divorce. I'm so _tired_ , Jonathan."

For a moment she was frightened by the panicked look in Jonathan's eyes, but his gentle laughter took the place of his alarm and he looked away from her, smoothing a wrinkle in his trousers. "Yes, of course," he said. "Of course that's what we'll do. Money makes the world go round, as they say!"

"And I'll come and see you whenever I can," she said eagerly. "But no more parties, Jonathan. I don't think I could bear seeing your house again with all those _people_ in it."

"No more parties," Jonathan promised. "Just the way you like it."

She smiled, looking forward to the days when she would have Jonathan all to herself, without anybody intruding on the small bit of happiness that shone through the darkness. She looked past Jonathan, wondering if there was a clock so she could check the time, when she noticed a second door that she had overlooked earlier.

"Where does that door lead?" she asked, pointing.

Jonathan followed her gaze, then looked back at her sheepishly. "That's where I, uh... sleep."

A thrill ran through Lucy, reminding her that she could do as she pleased and have whatever she wished, if she was only bold enough to take it. She rested her hand on top of Jonathan's, her eyes locked onto his. "Would you mind showing it to me?"

"No," he said, taking her hand once more. "No, I wouldn't mind at all."


	15. A convenient diversion

"How come you don't live in a place like _this_?" Violet asked. She waved a hand in the air, gesturing at the richly furnished billiard room in Jonathan Carnahan's mansion.

Beni climbed off the billiard table and put his disheveled clothing back in order, shooting a glare at Violet as he buttoned up his pants. "Because I don't feel like it."

"What do you mean, you don't feel like it? _Everyone_ wants to live in a big fancy mansion."

"Well I am not everyone."

She reclined on the table, propped up on her elbows with her flashy silver dress pushed up to her thighs. The scarf she usually wrapped around her hair had fluttered to the floor and she watched Beni with heavily made-up eyes, looking ridiculous now that their spur-of-the-moment tryst was over. "I bet you could live in a house like this if you _really_ wanted to," said Violet. "It's not like you don't have the money."

Beni snorted and pulled up his suspenders. Violet was under the false impression that having any kind of money meant he could do whatever he wanted and buy the whole world if he put his mind to it. He scowled at the fancy wallpaper on the billiard room walls, at the polished liquor cabinet stocked with crystal glasses, at the ornate electric lamp with its flower patterned lampshade, and felt sick knowing that an idiot like Jonathan Carnahan lived in this palace. A bumbling, boozing fool like Jonathan didn't deserve to live in such excessive luxury. No privileged man who had never gone hungry a day in his life deserved the kind of riches that Jonathan enjoyed, but they enjoyed them since the day they were born, never knowing what it was like to be at the very bottom getting stepped on by everyone who stood at the top.

Violet made him just as sick sometimes. She thought her life was so hard, just because her husband sold guns underground instead of inheriting millions of dollars from some rich, stuffy relatives who came from old money in Boston or New York. She thought she was so fancy, just because she snuck away from Henderson to spend time with Beni, but she would never truly be fancy and she would never see Beni as anything more than a convenient diversion with a full wallet.

"Pull your dress back down," he told Violet, feeling suddenly weary. "You look like a whore."

She didn't move from her lazy position on the billiard table. "Who cares if I do? Nobody's here to see me."

" _I_ can see you."

"Well you don't count. Anyway, who says I'm finished?"

"You are finished because I'm done with you," Beni informed her.

She let out a piercing giggle that made him wince. "I don't need _you_ to have a good time, honey. You're just my chosen fellow of the hour."

Beni didn't care if she lifted her skirts for half the men at the party. Violet thought it would be thrilling to screw someplace interesting, like the top of a billiard table, and Beni had to admit that it _was_ thrilling, but now he was tired of this ridiculous house and he was tired of Violet. She arrived at Jonathan's party with her husband, who had been invited by his two obnoxious friends named Burns and Daniels, and Beni had been perfectly willing to pursue her when he spotted her downstairs. She looked bored standing next to Henderson, almost as bored as Beni felt standing next to Lucy, and he decided to leave Lucy so he could lure Violet away from Henderson, just for a little while.

He had left Lucy on her own long enough; Jonathan may be an idiot, but he was still a man, and Lucy was not terribly selective when it came to men. She and Violet had that in common.

"I'm going back downstairs," he informed Violet.

She sat up a little straighter, looking at him with her big round eyes. "Aw, Beni. At least be a sport and light me a cigarette before you go."

"Your cigarettes are right over there," said Beni, pointing to the little table where she had left her purse.

"I don't want to get up. It's such a hassle."

"Well then it will have to be a hassle. I'm out of here."

"You can't push me aside forever, Beni," Violet said as he unlocked the door and headed for the hall. "You'll see!"

Beni ignored her and left the room, ready to find his wife and get home already. He nearly made it to the staircase when he heard a burst of laughter that sounded familiar, and frowned in the direction it came from. Creeping silently along, he followed the laughter until he found Lucy standing on a balcony that overlooked the pool, all alone except for Jonathan, who stood a safe distance apart from her and seemed occupied in fishing an olive out of his martini. Beni was relieved that O'Connell was nowhere in sight, though the sight of Lucy alone with a man— _any_ man—annoyed him just a little. Throughout the last several days he had tried his best to keep O'Connell distracted, inviting him out for drinks at his favorite bars and encouraging him to make friends with Henderson, and he was glad that O'Connell kept his distance from Lucy, but the victory felt hollow.

He tried to wipe the frown from his face and stepped forward onto the balcony. "Lucy, my dear, it is getting late," he said with false sweetness. "I have been looking all over for you."

Lucy spun around in shock, her face flushed, and took a step further from Jonathan. "Darling! You startled me."

"I'm so very sorry," said Beni. "Why don't I take you home?"

She eyed him suspiciously, looking unnerved at his unusually nice tone. "What if I'm not ready to go home?"

"It's not even midnight yet," Jonathan spoke up. He had only glanced at Beni briefly before dropping his gaze to the pool down below, his free hand wrapped about the balcony railing. "You can't possibly leave before midnight, Lucy old girl. It simply isn't done."

"My wife is not used to staying out late," said Beni. "Isn't that right, my dear?"

"I _am_ a little tired," Lucy admitted.

"Of course you are. It is late."

"Really, now, it isn't _that_ late," Jonathan protested. He tore his eyes from the pool and took a step towards Lucy, who immediately backed away from him like a startled deer and latched onto Beni, clutching him by the arm.

"Beni's right!" she said brightly. "We _really_ ought to be going."

"But Lucy, I—"

"Good night, Jonathan. I'll see you some other time, I promise!"

Jonathan gaped at them both, failing to notice that his martini was dripping upon the floor, and Beni smirked as he led Lucy away from the balcony and towards the stairs, back to the first floor where the two of them would retreat inside his car and make their way home. The further he walked, though, the less satisfied he felt, and he couldn't shake the annoyance that filled him when he heard Lucy _laugh_ in Jonathan's presence. He didn't like it, nor did he like Jonathan with his carefree British charm and his silly, elaborate parties. He took Lucy's hand in his, as if holding onto her could ensure a lifetime of comfort, wealth, and security, and didn't even bother asking where O'Connell had gone. The further O'Connell was from Beni and Lucy that night, the better.

"How long were you lurking by the balcony?" Lucy asked.

Beni could feel her shiver as they stepped outside into the night. "Why do you care?"

"You popped out of nowhere so suddenly, I... I don't like it when you frighten me like that. Can't you approach people like a normal person?"

"And how the hell does a normal person approach people? Get tipsy and stumble around, like Mr. Carnahan?"

"He doesn't stumble. He just likes to drink and have a good time."

"And what would you know about that?" Beni asked. "Who exactly _is_ this Mr. Carnahan?"

"I told you, he's an old friend," Lucy said tiredly. "I didn't know him all that well, really. He was really a friend of my mother's family."

They reached Beni's roadster and Beni opened the driver's door, letting Lucy get into the passenger's side herself. He usually felt at peace when he sat in his car, but the smooth leather and polished metal did nothing to ease his stubborn dislike of Jonathan Carnahan. It was obscene for a single man to possess so much money and live such a carefree life. It was absurd for him to insist on thrusting himself into the public eye with his wild revels and brightly lit displays.

Beni placed one hand on the steering wheel and made no move to start the car. "Where did this Mr. Carnahan get so much money?"

"I don't know," said Lucy. "Earned it, I suppose. He has a few relatives with money, but not enough to afford such a grand house."

"Well what does he do?"

"Why do you care?" Lucy asked, throwing his own words back at him. "It has nothing to do with you."

"Still, I would like to know what he does," said Beni. "And I intend to find out."


	16. Vague scraps of gossip

Rick took Evelyn out to dinner the night after the party and almost wished he hadn't. Evelyn wasn't like Lucy, who was easily entertained by frivolous amusements and casual conversation. Evelyn was an intellectual, a scholar, a woman in pursuit of answers, and Rick fumbled in her presence, becoming tongue-tied for fear of saying something hopelessly stupid. To his surprise she allowed him to take her out again later that week and throughout the next several days he found himself repeatedly in her company, though he never ventured past the front door of her neat and tidy apartment. He had slept with women just hours after meeting them and rarely saw them again, but Evelyn wasn't the kind of woman he could take to bed and toss aside. He cared what she thought of him, much more than he cared what any other woman thought of him, and he didn't mind giving her a chaste kiss goodnight upon the threshold of her home.

The hazy summer days slipped away and Rick kept his eye on the mansion next door. The windows no longer blazed with a thousand lights on wild evenings; rather, all was calm and quiet when the sun dipped down and the stars took its place, but Rick knew that Jonathan and Lucy saw each other often. Between his work down at the port and his outings with Evelyn, he rarely had time to catch them together, but he could tell that Lucy's charm had worked its magic upon the sprawling house next door. He could tell from the way Jonathan spoke, from the way his eyes sparkled, from the way he started taking his tea without tipping the contents of a flask into his cup. Jonathan, who had always been bright and cheery and full of good humor, now positively glowed with the satisfaction that a lovely young woman was his at last.

Still, Rick kept an eye on the mansion, knowing that one reckless little misstep could bring the enormous roof crashing upon Jonathan and Lucy's heads. Sometimes he thought of Meela and wondered if she would come driving down the road some day in a sleek black car, her imperious gaze fixed on the sight of Lucy sneaking out of the house. Most of the time he thought of Beni, who would surely be furious if he learned what Lucy was up to during his frequent visits to bars, gambling halls, and Henderson's wife. Rick made an effort to find time for his old friend, hoping that he would never suspect Lucy's infidelity, and took up his offer to have drinks again at the Pharaoh's Crown on a Friday night.

He found Beni sitting alone at the bar, sipping on a drink with his back straight and his head high, a confident light in his cold eyes. His striped grey suit didn't look so out of place on his skinny frame and he held his drink with a steady hand, displaying none of the nervous fidgets that often plagued him. He didn't look like a man who had entered a loveless marriage to elevate his status, or a man who used to roam the back alleys of Cairo in search of pockets to pick and purses to steal. He didn't look like a man whose wife was having an affair with the owner of a fabulous mansion.

"Have a seat, O'Connell," Beni said with a smirk, looking up at Rick. "Buy yourself a nice drink."

Rick held back a snort and sat down. For all his new confidence, Beni was as selfish and miserly as ever.

"The drinks are very good tonight." Beni took a sip to prove his point. "Not weak and watered down like they sometimes serve. I like a good strong drink on a night like this."

"And what's so special about a night like this?" asked Rick.

"It is a good night to be rich, O'Connell. A good night to know that you are better than some men out there."

"I'll take your word for it," said Rick, watching him uneasily.

"How is your neighbor Mr. Carnahan? I have heard that he no longer throws his ridiculous parties."

"That's true."

Beni's laughter was cool and triumphant. "That does not surprise me. He is not so great, you know. Carnahan is really nothing but an imposter."

Rick didn't respond, afraid of baiting him. The last person he wanted to discuss with Beni was Jonathan Carnahan. He ordered a drink from the greasy-haired bartender and tried to think of something to say, but Beni didn't give him a chance. He leaned towards Rick, one hand wrapped possessively around his glass, and picked up right where he left off.

"I have learned some things about Carnahan," he said smugly.

Rick was willing to bet that there was one thing he _didn't_ know. "Is that right?"

"Oh, yes," said Beni. "A lot of people would be very upset if they knew where he gets his money, though he is not really as rich as he wants people to believe."

"How do you know that?"

"I have my ways. It is easy to find these things out when you know where to look."

Rick was curious in spite of himself. He had always known that Jonathan had secrets, but everyone had secrets, and he supposed it didn't matter whether Jonathan had earned his money, inherited it, or stolen it from a dozen banks across the globe. Yet he couldn't quench that curiosity, not when Lucy deserved to know if Jonathan had some unsavory skeletons hiding in his closet.

"Well what have people been saying about him?" Rick asked. "Where did he get his money?"

Another cold little laugh escaped Beni. "Why should I tell you? You are his friend."

"I'm his neighbor."

"Fine, call it whatever you like." Beni took a long, satisfying swig from his glass, savoring the last bit of his drink before turning his eyes back to Rick. "But I guess I will tell you one thing."

"And what's that?"

"The mansion is not his."

Rick contemplated Beni's words throughout the rest of the evening, unsure of whether he should dismiss them as mere gossip or take them as truth. He left the bar early, increasingly annoyed by Beni's smug attitude, and when Saturday arrived the next day he decided that it was none of his business, and that it didn't matter if the house was Jonathan's or not. Still, when Jonathan invited him over he found himself pulled towards the mansion next door like a fish caught on a hook, drawn to those wide double doors that had opened upon the city for countless nights, welcoming people inside until the party lights faded and the music drifted away.

A solemn, inconspicuous butler opened the doors and informed him that Jonathan was taking tea by the poolside. He took Rick to the back of the house, where another pair of double doors opened onto a yard that was dominated by the large, oval-shaped pool, whose waters were perfectly still in the heavy Egyptian air. Jonathan sat in a chair near the pool, dressed in a lightweight suit for the outdoors, and busily stirred a lump of sugar into his cup of hot tea. Lucy sat in a chair beside him and turned around in her seat the moment Rick appeared, her red mouth open with astonishment.

"Rick, what a surprise!" she said, adjusting her wide-brimmed hat so she could see him better. "Jonathan and I were just having some iced tea. Well _I'm_ having iced tea; Jonathan takes his hot, of course. You know how much the English love their hot tea, though it's a complete mystery how they can bear it in this weather."

Jonathan grinned at Rick over his teacup. "O'Connell, have a seat! There's a good chap. Lucy just happened to drop in for a moment and I couldn't refuse her, you see."

Lucy nodded in agreement. "Just for a moment."

Rick accepted Lucy's offer of iced tea and sat there with her and Jonathan, listening to them talk lightly about nothing at all. Both of them appeared unfazed by his presence, acting as if they had nothing to hide from him or anyone else, and Rick allowed himself to be lulled by Lucy's sweet laughter and her girlish cheer, though he longed for Evelyn and her vibrant enthusiasm for books, ancient scrolls, and stories of great kings and queens long dead.

"I'd love to take a swim in that pool sometime," Lucy remarked, staring down at the bright water that matched the color of her eyes. "It's been years since I last went swimming! Can you believe it?"

"I'll get you a bathing suit first thing tomorrow," said Jonathan. "A nice lovely blue one with a matching cap."

"But what about _you_?" Lucy asked. "This pool's been sitting here all summer and you haven't taken a dip!"

Jonathan laughed and poured himself more tea from the silver pot that sat on a tray. "I'm not much of a swimmer. Not much of a sportsman at all, really. The other lads always picked me last to be on their cricket teams when I was a boy. What about you, O'Connell? I bet you're a born swimmer, aren't you?"

"I get by," said Rick.

"I know you can swim, Rick," said Lucy. "I've seen you! But never mind that. I've got the most wonderful idea." She reclined in her seat with carefree grace, looking eagerly at them both. "I want the two of you to come to lunch tomorrow. Sundays are usually so dull, but we'll have sandwiches and salad and some nice cool drinks, and Jonathan can see the house. You'll laugh when you see the house, Jonathan. It's like a doll's house compared to this palace!"

"What about Beni?" asked Rick. "Is he going to be there?"

"I suppose he will, but what does it matter? You've had meals with us before."

"Don't you worry about that old rascal, O'Connell," said Jonathan. "We'll invite Evy along if it makes you feel better. Nobody can misbehave when Evy's sharp eyes are on the watch."

Jonathan winked at Rick, fully aware that his sister and his neighbor had gone out to dinner a few times, and Rick couldn't bring himself to refuse, though he felt uneasy at the thought of all five of them, Beni included, gathered under the Gabors' roof.

When the tea disappeared and the afternoon grew late, Rick and Lucy decided to leave at the same time. They said farewell to Jonathan, agreeing to have lunch at exactly twelve o'clock the next day, and left the house together so that Rick could head next door and Lucy could fetch her car from Jonathan's garage. Rick offered to help her and took her into the garage, where her car sat hidden from the world's scrutiny, and spoke his mind at last.

"Do you think this is such a good idea?" he asked. "Having Jonathan over tomorrow?"

"It's only lunch," she said. "Nothing's going to happen at a harmless little lunch."

"I think you're playing with fire, Lucy. I'd be careful if I were you."

"Well you're _not_ me," said Lucy, looking up at him calmly. "And you have no idea what any of this feels like."

"You're right," said Rick. "I don't."

"You can't imagine how wonderful it is to have Jonathan back. And he's so fabulously rich now. You can do anything you want when you're fabulously rich."

Rick thought back to Beni's words from earlier and wondered, once again, if there was any truth to the vague scraps of gossip.

"Why should I keep sneaking around like a common criminal?" Lucy continued. "Why shouldn't I enjoy myself? Beni's going to find out the truth anyway, and I might as well have a little fun before it happens." She stood close to him, her sad, lovely face tilted up towards his, and absently played with the string of beads around her neck. "You'll be on my side, won't you, Rick?"

He didn't want to see her fall, but he would try to catch her if she ever did. "Yeah," he said. "Of course."

She gave him a cherry-red smile, all traces of tragedy wiped from her face. "I'll see you at twelve o'clock sharp."

"Right. Let me get your door."

He opened the driver's door of her car and helped her inside, then watched her drive off down the road until she disappeared into the hazy glow of the late afternoon. The air felt stale without the freshness of her laughter and Rick walked to his modest home next door, where he sat on the porch and cleaned his favorite guns, wondering where he would be if he hadn't stopped wandering.


	17. All the hopes and fears

Rick stood in one of Jonathan's numerous sitting rooms, waiting for Evelyn to come downstairs, and caught sight of his reflection in the polished oval mirror that hung between two old-fashioned still life paintings. He wore his nicest clothes, which consisted of a clean white shirt and a tan jacket that was more practical than fashionable, and he briefly imagined what he would look like if he forced himself into a fancy suit with a matching tie and polished shoes. He nearly laughed at the idea. He didn't belong in a fancy suit, sipping champagne and eating caviar with the hoity-toity upper crust, but he didn't mind the vastness of Jonathan's home. Maybe it was Jonathan's lack of snobbery, or maybe it was the occasional presence of Evelyn that kept the mansion from feeling too oppressive.

He tore his gaze from the mirror and looked at the clock on the mantle. He and Evelyn were supposed to ride to Lucy's house in Jonathan's car, since Jonathan insisted that the three of them arrive together. He seemed unwilling, or perhaps unable, to arrive at Lucy and Beni's house alone and urged Rick to come over early so they wouldn't be late. Rick glanced at the clock again and hoped it was fast, or else they _were_ going to be late.

He ventured outside the sitting room, impatient to leave and get the inevitable lunch over with, and paused at the foot of the stairs. The staircase looked strangely empty without a dozen guests littering its velvety steps, filling the enormous house with life and color, and Rick was rather startled when the silence was broken by voices that carried from the second floor.

"Oh, Evy, don't make such a fuss," Jonathan said. "Of _course_ I'll be on my best behavior."

"I still don't like it," said Evelyn. "If it wasn't for O'Connell, I wouldn't go at all."

"Well, at least _somebody_ around here can drag you away from your books and out of the house for a few minutes. A little fresh air will do you good, you know."

Rick remained where he was at the foot at the stairs, straining his ears to catch Evelyn's next reply.

"Jonathan," she said, sounding weary. "You know this has nothing to do with my... well, my _reluctance_ to attend social gatherings."

"I know." Jonathan sounded less sure of himself than before. His voice carried the weight of all the hopes and fears that had rested upon his shoulders since Lucy walked back into his life. "I know I'm probably being a right fool, but I love her, Evy. For five years I've loved her."

"Do you really, truly love Lucy?" Evelyn asked slowly. "Or do you simply love the idea of her?"

Jonathan didn't respond for a long moment. Finally he let out a strained chuckle and said, "I don't quite know what you mean. Why don't I, ah, go start the car? Don't want to keep O'Connell waiting."

Rick moved away from the staircase, pretending to admire a particularly garish landscape that hung upon the wall, and listened as Jonathan's footsteps thumped downstairs, followed by Evelyn's lighter step. By the time Jonathan reached the first floor he was all bright smiles and cheerful words, no trace of uncertainty left in his voice or manner, though he didn't clap Rick on the shoulder or playfully tug Evelyn's long dark hair, the way he normally did when the three of them gathered together. He walked mechanically out of his home and out to his waiting car, drawn outdoors by a stiff determination that pushed him stubbornly forward. Rick and Evelyn joined him, both of them silent as Jonathan made some inane remark on the beautiful weather, and Rick caught a glimmer of weakness in Jonathan's eyes when Evelyn gently patted his arm.

"Well, let's hop to it, shall we?" said Jonathan, throwing himself into the driver's seat. "Better late than never, as they say."

The drive to Lucy's house lasted an eternity. Jonathan was a speedy, rather reckless driver, but time slowed down as he followed Rick's directions to the quiet stretch of road where Lucy's house resided. The route that had become familiar to Rick over the last few weeks was entirely new territory to Jonathan, and he drank it in with dazed eyes, remarking upon this particular tree or that specific house. Each moment brought him closer to the shrine that housed the woman he worshiped daily, closer to the strange and forbidding domain of the husband who kept her imprisoned, and his comments eventually died down until he drove in hushed silence, tapping his fingers nervously upon the steering wheel.

"That's it," Rick spoke up, pointing to the white house where Beni and Lucy lived.

"Lovely house," Evelyn murmured with perfect British politeness.

"Yes," said Jonathan. "It is, isn't it?"

But something had changed since Evelyn confronted Jonathan and spoke those unsettling words: _Do you really, truly love Lucy? Or do you simply love the idea of her?_ Rick looked at Jonathan and saw a man who had spent five years trying to keep the memory of a ghost fresh and alive, denying the existence of the grave where his relationship with Lucy had been buried. Whether he truly loved her or not didn't matter. Jonathan was chasing a dream, desperate to recapture something that had flown away from him long ago, and Rick could only stand by and hope that this long-lost dream didn't shift into a nightmare before their eyes.

Lucy came bounding out of the house before they even left the car, a sunny yellow dress fluttering around her knees. "It's past twelve, Jonathan!" she cried, though she sounded more excited than upset. "Can't you read a clock?"

"Bit of trouble on the road," Jonathan said, stepping nervously out of the driver's seat. "Nothing to worry about, though. We're all in one piece."

"I'm so very glad to hear that." Lucy took a step towards Jonathan, then noticed Rick and Evelyn getting out of the car and froze in place, remembering where she was. "Hello, Rick! And Evelyn, too! It's been an _age_ since I've seen you."

"Hello, Lucy," said Evelyn. "You certainly look well."

"Oh, it's only the dress," said Lucy, running a hand over the bright yellow fabric. "Anyone can look well in the right sort of dress. I'm sure _you_ would look stunning if you put this on."

"She would indeed, but she would never wear it," said Jonathan. "Unless it once belonged to some ancient princess or other who's been lying under the sand for two thousand years. Isn't that right, Evy?"

Evelyn gave him a tight-lipped smile. "Yes, Jonathan. That's exactly right."

"You haven't changed one bit," Lucy said with delight. "You and Jonathan both."

"What is going on out here?"

Lucy's smile vanished the moment Beni appeared in the open doorway, clad in a crisp black suit that made him look comically overdressed.

"Everyone has arrived, dear," said Lucy, taking a hasty step away from Jonathan.

"I can see that," said Beni. "Why don't you let them inside and I will show Mr. Carnahan our humble home?"

"Whatever you like," said Lucy.

Rick drew closer to Evelyn and took her by the arm, sensing her discomfort among people she didn't know well, and brought up the rear as Beni, Lucy, and Jonathan entered the spacious front hall. "Having fun yet?" Rick murmured.

"Surely that isn't Lucy's husband," Evelyn whispered.

"Yeah. It is."

"Oh. Well I'm sure he's quite... nice. What does he do here in Egypt?"

"He's a professional leech," Rick said, surprised at his own bitter response. He had spent years making excuses for Beni, insisting that he wasn't really as bad as he seemed, but now the excuses had run dry. He couldn't bring himself to feel sorry for Beni anymore.

After a brief look around the house, they all gathered at the dining room table for lunch. Rick found himself sitting near Beni, who sat at the head of the table and seemed more obnoxiously smug than ever, and caught him staring at Evelyn with a strange, wicked gleam in his eyes.

"So you are Carnahan's sister," said Beni, smirking at Evelyn. "You must be so proud of your brother for becoming so rich."

Evelyn shared an anxious glance with Rick before smiling back at Beni. "Oh, yes."

"But I wonder why you do not live in that big, fancy mansion. Surely your brother is kind enough to share the wealth with his only sister."

"She's happy right where she is," said Rick, shooting Beni a stern look.

"Tell me, Miss Carnahan," said Beni, ignoring Rick. "Does the name Meela Nais mean anything to you?"

A sudden clatter came from the other end of the table as Jonathan dropped his silverware. "What was that?" he asked.

"Nothing," said Beni. "I was only asking your sister if she knows Meela Nais."

"I haven't the faintest idea who that is," said Evelyn, looking bewildered.

"Of course you don't," said Jonathan. "She's, er... nobody."

"Is that so?" said Beni, staring down the table at Jonathan. "If you ask me, I don't think she is nobody at all. I think she is a very important woman that the police would be very interested in."

"Beni, would you knock it off already?" Lucy cut in. "Nobody cares about this Meela woman. Now Jonathan, would you be a dear and pass me that pitcher of iced tea? I'm absolutely parched over here."

Jonathan passed her the pitcher and Lucy's hand touched his for a moment, lingering far longer than necessary. "You really _are_ a dear, you know," she said, looking at him with adoring eyes. "The most charming dear I've ever met."

Rick longed to snatch up the whole uncomfortable scene and fling it out the window. He cleared his throat and looked at Beni, who watched Lucy and Jonathan with his mouth slightly open, his salad fork clutched tightly in one hand.

"How's Henderson?" asked Rick.

"Henderson is fine," Beni said, his eyes flashing impatiently.

"Mr. Gabor, how did you and Lucy meet each other?" Evelyn asked, attempting to bring some sense of normality back to the table.

"The usual way that men and women meet each other," Beni replied. "We had a few drinks together, went to a few parties, and I knew I had to make her my wife. So we had a nice wedding, bought ourselves this house, and had a wonderful little boy." He stared unblinkingly at Evelyn, as if daring her to challenge his words. "And just look at how happy we are."

"Oh, stop it, Beni!" Lucy burst out, throwing down her sandwich. "You know you don't love _me_. You only love my money."

"I think you both ought to stop," said Rick, raising his voice a little more than necessary.

"She _'s_ right, though," said Jonathan, looking at Beni. "You don't love her at all."

"And what the hell would _you_ know about it?" said Beni.

"Well, she doesn't love you either," said Jonathan. Some of his old confidence returned in full force and he sat up straighter, his carefree blue eyes more serious than Rick had ever seen them. "Lucy could never love a lousy little blackguard like you. She's always loved _me_."

"Jonathan, no," said Evelyn, but it was too late.

Rick half-expected Beni to take his fork and fling it down the table in hope of hitting Jonathan with it, but instead he let out a dark, humorless laugh. "That is ridiculous. Lucy doesn't love anyone but herself."

"You're the one who doesn't love anyone but yourself," Lucy retorted. "And I do love Jonathan. I loved him long before I let _you_ put your filthy hands on me."

"You wanted me to put my filthy hands on you, you little slut," said Beni.

Rick thought he heard Evelyn gasp, but he wasn't really listening. His fist collided with Beni's face, catching him on the eye, and Beni immediately toppled backwards and onto the floor, whimpering with pain.

"Don't you ever call her that again," said Rick. "Or I'll break your arm next time."

Cursing to himself, Beni remained in a heap on the floor and clutched at his eye, which would be blackened and bruised within minutes. Lucy put her face in her hands. "I can't stand this anymore," she moaned. "I can't stand it."

"Lucy, love, don't cry—" Jonathan began, but Lucy rose from her seat and stormed out of the dining room, imploring Jonathan not to follow her. Evelyn stared at Lucy's empty seat in horrified silence, her hand instinctively finding Rick's and holding fast, and Rick figured that for all her theatrics, Lucy had the right idea. Rick couldn't stand it either.

"I think we've overstayed our welcome," he said, gently pulling Evelyn with him as he left the table. "Jonathan, start the car."

Jonathan looked helplessly in the direction Lucy had gone, as lost as a boy whose favorite balloon had blown away with the wind, never to return. "But—"

" _Now_ ," said Rick. "As for you," he added, looming over Beni's pathetic form. "You had better not hurt her."

Beni looked back at him with panicky eyes, no longer the smug man who thought he had control over everything, including his wife, and shrank away from Rick without uttering a word. Rick took Evelyn by the arm and followed Jonathan out to the car, wishing he had a pistol so he could fire a round of bullets into the nearest tree trunk, simply for the sake of releasing all the horrible tension that had built up inside him.

"Well," Evelyn said rather shakily, leaning against Rick. "That was much less dull than I had anticipated."


	18. Overwhelmed by her desires

Lucy hadn't used her traveling trunk in years, ever since her family moved to Egypt, but she still remembered where it lay buried under spare linens and old cardigans that had piled up in her closet. The trunk lay open on the bed she shared with Beni, still in good condition after years of disuse, and Lucy rushed about the room grabbing the things she loved the most, preparing for a desperate flight from the home that had kept her prisoner for so many months. She wouldn't need to pack much. She could buy a whole new wardrobe, thanks to Jonathan's seemingly endless wealth, and Gabriel would grow up like a prince with all the best finery and amusements.

She placed her favorite jewelry box into the trunk and paused, gazing down at the clothes and keepsakes she had packed away in a rush. Jonathan would be surprised when she arrived at his door with Gabriel in her arms, but she wouldn't dream of leaving the baby. She _couldn't_ leave the baby with a father like Beni to raise him. She supposed Jonathan wouldn't be thrilled with the idea of raising another man's child, especially a child that belonged to Beni, but Gabriel was Lucy's child as well, and he deserved to have a decent father instead of the miserable rat who had sired him on a night filled with carelessness and too much liquor. He deserved to be raised in a normal household with two people who actually loved each other.

And oh, she just _had_ to run away. She couldn't stay another minute in this house with the wicked man she had married, when the man who adored her was right within her reach. She couldn't stay in this mundane existence, knowing that another beautiful world existed out there, waiting to welcome her and make her happy.

The bedroom door opened and she hoped it was the housekeeper, or even the nursemaid, but she knew it was neither without even turning around to look. She knew the way Beni slipped into a room, slinking his way inside like a cat in search of mischief, and it didn't take him long to let loose that grating whine that she once found funny and rather charming, in a foreign sort of way.

"Your precious Mr. Carnahan is gone," said Beni.

"I don't blame him," said Lucy.

"Don't act so innocent. I am not the one who created a scene in front of our guests."

" _I_ created a scene?" said Lucy, turning around to face him at last. She was startled by the large purple bruise that surrounded his eye. "I'm not the one who got myself punched in the face."

"You are my wife. I'm not going to sit by and let some idiot tell me he loves my wife." Beni took a couple of steps towards her, his eyes landing on the trunk that lay open upon the bed, its contents haphazardly on display. "What the hell is this? You think you can run away now?"

"That's right, Beni," she said. "I'm running away, and Gabriel goes with me. He's just a burden to you anyway, just like I'm nothing but a pile of money to you."

"Oh, sure," Beni scoffed. "As if he isn't a burden to you too. As if you are _such_ a good mother. You can barely look after him."

"At least I care about him. You would gladly dump him off on the nearest street corner and forget all about him. Gabriel may look like you, but he'll never _be_ like you if I can help it, and I'm not going to let you be his father anymore."

"Fine, then. Go ahead and take my son to some stranger. Try and be happy with an imposter who's staying in another woman's house."

Lucy wanted to dismiss his words as nonsense, but something in Beni's eyes unsettled her. She got the feeling he was mocking her. "What do you mean?"

"It looks like I know more about Carnahan than you do, my dear," said Beni, his face twisted in an ugly sneer made worse by his blackened eye. "Your wonderful Mr. Carnahan is not a millionaire. He is nothing more than a petty criminal surviving on handouts."

"You're lying," said Lucy.

"No, I'm not. The mansion belongs to a woman named Meela Nais. She says she is an art dealer, but her name is connected to a stolen goods ring. A big one that operates in eight major cities or something." Beni gave her an infuriating little smirk. "Jonathan Carnahan works for this woman and uses her mansion while she's away on business."

"That can't be true," said Lucy. Jonathan's glorious mansion, which seemed like a fairytale castle minutes before, lost more of its glamor with each word Beni spoke. She had planned to run away and hide in a dream world, where she would live like a queen while Beni was forced onto the streets, but it all felt silly and childish now. She stared back at Beni, unable to tear her eyes from the ugly bruise that had been caused by _her_ and all her foolish dreams.

"It is very true," said Beni. "Carnahan is nothing."

"Well I still don't believe you, and I'm going to ask him about it myself."

"Go ahead. You will come crawling back here when you learn that I'm right."

Lucy felt sick looking at him. She had spent so many months trapped with this man, hoping that he would change just a little, or that she would stop caring altogether. "I wanted to love you, you know," she said, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks. "I _tried_ to love you, but you're too damn horrible, and you _like_ being horrible."

"Oh, quit feeling sorry for yourself," said Beni. He pushed her trunk so that it crashed onto the floor, spilling its priceless contents everywhere. "Nobody told you to marry me. You could have married a nice, perfect man like O'Connell, but you picked _me_ , and now you are stuck with me."

"Stop it," Lucy pleaded, taking a step backward. The tears came, burning her eyes as they fell. "I won't listen to you anymore."

"Of course you will. I am your husband that you must honor and obey. You made your vows."

"You don't know the _first_ thing about being a proper husband." She wiped her eyes with her hand, feeling braver now that all of her feelings were finally out in the open. "And I'm leaving you one way or another, so you can kiss your riches goodbye."

He looked at her with wide eyes, as if realizing for the first time that she meant what she said, and she had meant it all along. "Lucy, don't be ridiculous," he said, softening his tone to a desperate whine. "You know I cannot live without you."

"It's my money you can't live without. You don't need me at all, not when you have this house and your nice car and your whore of a mistress."

"Well I never pretended to be something I'm not. I have never lied to you like Carnahan has."

"I bet you're lying right now." Lucy brushed away another tear, glaring at him through watery eyes. "And I've had enough. I'm going to Jonathan and I'm finding out the truth."

She rushed past Beni, fleeing the bedroom without bothering to pick up her fallen trunk. She didn't fetch Gabriel either, bent on getting herself downstairs and into her car before Beni tried to stop her. The afternoon sunlight hit her full in the face when she stepped outside, startling her with its brightness, and she could hardly believe that daylight still existed after all the darkness she had faced since her disastrous lunch. She could hardly believe that less than an hour ago, she was greeting Jonathan in front of the house in her sun-colored dress, the two of them tempting fate together with their short-lived secret. The secret was out now, and Lucy didn't want to believe that more secrets lurked in the distance, but she couldn't rest until she knew if Beni was lying to her.

Jonathan's butler—or perhaps Meela Nais' butler, though Lucy could barely stand the thought—greeted her with a perfectly stoic face, oblivious to the chaos that had torn her emotions to shreds. He politely informed her that Jonathan was in the master bedroom and didn't wish to be disturbed, but she pleaded with him until a spark of humanity flickered in his eyes. He offered to escort her, but Lucy refused his offer and headed straight for the stairs, feeling weak and lightheaded now that she had reached her sanctuary at last. The stairs seemed endless, rising before her like one of the great pyramids that reached for the sky, though it was nothing compared to the exhausting scene she had left behind. She knew the route to Jonathan's bedroom well, since she had visited him as often as she could, and when she tried to turn the knob she found it was locked. Undeterred, she gave the door a good solid knock and waited, her heart pounding in rhythm to the topsy-turvy feelings that rattled inside her, making her long to collapse someplace safe where her feelings could no longer touch her.

The bedroom door slowly creaked open and Jonathan stood before her, his tie undone and his hair rumpled. His eyes widened when he saw Lucy and he gaped at her wordlessly for a moment, then pulled her into a tight embrace.

"My word, Lucy. What the devil are _you_ doing here?"

She stood stiffly in his arms, trying not to get smothered in the fabric of his jacket. "It-it's Beni," she said, stammering a bit as the words tumbled out. "I've had enough of him. He's saying the most awful things about you."

"What kind of awful things?"

"About your money, and this house. He says it's all a lie."

"Oh, bloody hell," Jonathan murmured. He pulled away from her, looking everywhere but her face, and fiddled with the loose ends of his tie.

"But it can't possibly be true," said Lucy, watching him with dread. "Can it?"

"True and false are such strong words, Lucy. It's really not as black and white as all that. More of a gray area, really..."

" _Jonathan_. Is it true?"

"Well... yes," he said miserably. "It's all a sham, every last bit of it. Evy has no idea. Thinks I made the right investments and got lucky, or some nonsense."

Lucy was aware that they were still standing in the doorway of his bedroom. She had spent a great number of lovely hours in that bedroom, losing herself to a pleasure she thought had been lost years ago, and now she felt cheated, knowing it wasn't _his_ bedroom at all. She felt like a perfect fool, knowing Beni was right. "All this time, you've lied to me," she said. "I was so proud of you, thinking you had really made something of yourself, and you let me believe in you."

"Lucy, darling, I had no choice. I had an image to keep up. A sense of grand mystique!"

"I don't care if you duped everyone in Cairo. But you lied to _me_. I — I can't take any more of this, Jonathan. It's all too much."

He reached for her, attempting to pull her into another embrace, but she put her arms tightly around herself and shook her head.

"I'm sorry," Jonathan said weakly, sounding lost within the vast space of a mansion that wasn't truly his. "Let's... let's forget the whole thing and take a nice dip in the pool out back. I got you that bathing suit I promised and I know you would look smashing in it."

"Not now, Jonathan," she said. " _Please_. I'll come see you tomorrow, I swear it."

The pain and desperation in his smile wounded her. "All right, then. I've still got the house for another week until, well... my, er, employer reclaims it."

She wanted to ask him what he intended to do when the game was up, but she had lingered long enough. She relaxed her arms and stepped forward to give Jonathan one swift kiss on the cheek, then took her leave of him with fresh tears stinging her eyes. She supposed she looked a fright that afternoon and was grateful that she didn't run into the butler on her way outside. The sun continued to shine, mocking her with its never-ending cheer, and she sat in the front seat of her car with her hands in her lap, longing to leave but unwilling to go home and admit defeat.

Though she _did_ feel defeated, overwhelmed by her desires to live in a world that could never truly exist, even if Jonathan did possess the wealth he had claimed to have. The two of them could run away together and pretend that the last five years had never happened, but they couldn't pretend forever. She felt like she didn't know him anymore, and that he didn't know her.

She looked out into the street, using a hand to shield her eyes from the sun, and looked upon the modest little house that Rick was renting for the summer. Rick said he would always be on her side, back when Lucy believed that she would come out on top, and she didn't need any more confrontations with men who had ripped out her heart. She needed a friend.

She drove the short distance to Rick's house and nearly collapsed at his front door, but she managed to find the energy to raise her fist and knock. He came to the door immediately, one hand on the gun that rested at his hip, but he relaxed the moment he saw her face.

"Lucy. You all right?"

"Hello, Rick." She pasted a perfect smile onto her tired face, willing to pretend that all was well, just for a moment. "Is it all right if I stay here for a while?"


	19. The perfect plan

Beni parked his roadster behind the hotel, a hat pulled low on his forehead to shield his face from the few hours of daylight that remained. He put out the cigarette he had smoked throughout the drive, too anxious and disgusted to keep puffing on it when his wonderful, darling wife was out there somewhere, hoping to escape the life she had chosen herself. Beni waited nearly an hour for her to return, and when she didn't come back he decided he had to see Violet, if only to turn the odds a little more in his favor.

If he wanted to keep Lucy and her money, he had to cut Violet loose. He would buy her one last drink, screw her one last time in a fancy hotel bed, and that would be that. He couldn't afford to keep a woman like Violet any longer. Leaving his car parked in the back where it wouldn't be noticed, he walked to the front of the hotel so he could loiter until Violet arrived, his hands absently shoved into his silk-lined pockets.

He didn't have to wait long for her to arrive. She came waltzing up in a tight dress, a sunshade clutched in one hand, and halted a polite distance from Beni. Nobody on the street was watching them, but they both knew better than to stand too closely together in Cairo's daylight, which would gladly expose all the world's secrets without mercy. Violet had painted a garish streak of purple across her lips, perhaps in an attempt to live up to her name, and cast an approving glance upon the hotel.

"Now that's a swell place," she said. "What's the occasion?"

"Why do I need an occasion to see such a beautiful woman?" said Beni, hating the saccharine words that fell from his lips. He even mustered up a smile. "Let's get ourselves a nice room and I will show you how much I missed you."

"That's awful sweet of you, Beni, but who says I'm in the mood? You _were_ pretty rude to me at that party."

Beni looked at her sadly. "Can you blame me for being a little agitated? My wife was right there in the house."

"Enough of the bullshit, honey. I'll tell you what I _do_ want from you."

"And what is that?"

"I want to skip town for a little while," said Violet, edging a step or two closer to Beni. "I might come back to my dear ol' husband, but right now I want a taste of being my own woman for a change. Travel the world a bit, see new things, meet all kinds of exciting people."

Beni's next smile was genuine. She would be out of his hair, just like that, and he didn't even have to spend money on an expensive hotel room to bribe her away. "How wonderful," he said, sneaking an impatient glance at his watch. "I wish you the best of luck."

Violet heaved a little sigh. "But as you know, I'm not made of money. It would help me _so_ much if you funded my trip just a little, tiny bit."

He bit back a curse, glaring at her ridiculous purple lipstick instead. "How much do you want?"

"Oh, not a whole lot. Just a little pocket change."

" _How much?"_

She pulled her sunshade away from her face in a coquettish gesture, a smirk on her lips. "I want two thousand American dollars."

"Two thousand dollars," Beni repeated flatly. "You are joking."

"It's no joke. I know you've got the money, so cough it up if you please."

"I'm not giving you anything."

"Really?" Violet taunted. "Well then I'll just tell Sam you lured me into some dark, seedy little inn and forced yourself on me. I don't think you want to get on Sam's bad side. He has _so_ many guns lying around."

Beni fought down the sudden panic that rose within him, resisting his natural instinct to turn tail and run. "Your husband will not believe that."

"He'll believe _anything_ I tell him. You wait and see."

"I'm not giving you the money."

"Oh, yes you are, Beni." Somehow she had gotten closer to him, her sunshade clutched tightly in her fist like a sword she would love to stab him with, if she didn't get her way. "I'll take whatever you've got now and you can drive me to your house so you can fetch the rest. Unless you want my dear husband to send a bullet through your chest. He can get touchy when he's had a whiskey or two."

Beni had heard enough. He was tired of women, tired of them thinking they could do whatever they pleased and walk all over him, and he wasn't going to let Violet manipulate him. He wasn't going to let _any_ woman manipulate him. "Shut the hell up," he told Violet. "You can't make me do anything."

"You just don't want to admit how frightened you are. You're a coward and you know it."

"I said shut up."

" _Coward_ ," Violet repeated stubbornly. "I can make you do anything I want. You don't even deserve to have money, you puny, pathetic little—"

Beni shoved her as hard as he could, pushing her into the street. Violet shrieked and landed on the ground, her sunshade skittering somewhere down the road, and Beni watched in stupefied horror as a car came barreling down the street and collided with her. Violet wasn't shrieking anymore; she lay perfectly still, a bloodied mass upon the road, and Beni wanted to retch as he turned around and fled the scene, ducking into the cool, vast refuge of the hotel where he could disappear in a thousand nooks and crannies. He hurried up three flights of stairs before he finally settled on a room, situated at the very end of the hall, and scrambled for the lockpick he always kept on his person. He thrust it into the lock with a shaking hand and succeeded after a few tries, then locked himself into the blissfully empty room and sat down on the bed.

He hadn't meant to give her such a gruesomely violent death. He hadn't meant to kill her at all, but the car had come out of nowhere and somebody was bound to call the police any minute, if they hadn't done so already. He was glad he had parked his car at the back of the hotel, and even more glad that he had worn a discreet suit and wore his hat low on his head. Anyone could have seen him push Violet, but he doubted they got a good look at his face when his hat shielded his features. There were dozens of men on the streets who dressed exactly like him, all blending into one another in the hazy Egyptian heat. Dozens of men who could have done the deed, and nobody would know for sure who the real culprit was.

Still, it would be safer for Beni to hide out for a while, at least until enough time had passed for him to avoid suspicion. He rummaged around in the hotel room and found a pack of cigarettes, along with a good amount of British currency, and stuffed both into his pockets before he resumed his seat on the bed, hoping that whoever was renting the room didn't return for a long time.

With nothing else to do, he pulled out one of his stolen cigarettes and began to smoke it half-heartedly, his eyes constantly flicking to the door. He wished he hadn't had the unpleasant experience of witnessing Violet's accident, but he supposed it was all for the best. She would have made his life a living hell, pestering him and threatening him for money she didn't truly need, and now she was off his back forever. All he had to do was find some way to keep Lucy, which would be much more difficult, and then the odds would truly be in _his_ favor and no one else's. But he needed a plan. Some way to eliminate Jonathan and make sure he could never take Lucy away from him. Some way to get rid of him once and for all, tarnish his reputation, ruin his name, destroy his—

Beni sat up straighter on the bed, gazing wide-eyed at the smoke that trailed from his cigarette. He had the perfect plan.

He snuck out of the hotel room and down the stairs until he reached the crowded lobby, which was packed with bystanders and journalists who gossiped about Violet's death with horrified enthusiasm, and slipped out a back entrance so he could find his car. As he drove away from the hotel he avoided the site where Violet's body lay, still afraid that somebody would take a good look at him and get suspicious, and drove into the touristy side of town where the Hendersons kept their apartment. The police had already arrived, bringing the bad news with them, and Beni was wary as he entered the building and headed for the Hendersons' floor. He hated policemen, though he could easily bribe them to turn a blind eye, and didn't have to knock upon the apartment door. It already stood wide open and Beni had to push past a small crowd of curious neighbors who swarmed around the entrance, hungry for any detail that happened to come their way.

Sam Henderson sat hunched on a sofa, a broken man with red-rimmed eyes. A half-empty bottle was clutched in one hand and he took an absent-minded pull on it, automatically pouring liquor down his throat like a machine. Two policemen were talking to him, but they halted the moment Beni arrived.

"Beni," said Henderson, his miserable eyes lighting in recognition. "The hell are you doin' here?"

"I have come to offer my condolences," said Beni. He looked at the nearest policeman and gave him the most innocent look he could manage.

"So ya heard about my Violet," said Henderson, staring down into the bottle in his hand. "My poor, sweet Violet. She never harmed a soul in her life, and some no-good son of a bitch plows her with his car, like she's no better than dirt."

"I know," Beni said sadly. He chanced another innocent look at the policeman, silently asking permission to step closer, and shuffled over to the sofa so he could lay a hand upon Henderson's shoulder. "She was a fine woman."

"A damned fine woman!" Henderson choked out. "I never deserved her."

"Of course you did. I am sure she loved you very much."

"I was gonna surprise her with a trip to America, ya know. She always said she wanted to go back there. Now the best I can do is bury her poor body on American soil, where she can be near her kinfolk." Henderson took another swig from his bottle, hardly aware that he dribbled liquor down his chin. "What am I gonna do without her, Beni? I ain't nothin' without my Violet."

"If you would excuse us, my good sirs," Beni said to the policemen, keeping up his charade of polite charm. "I would like to have a private word with Mr. Henderson."

The two men exchanged glances, but didn't argue and stepped out into the hall, where they proceeded to drive back the neighbors who eavesdropped by the door. Beni took a seat beside Henderson, keeping his distance to avoid any spilled liquor that might come his way, and watched him take yet another swig.

"If I ever catch the lousy son of a bitch who did this, I'll kill him," said Henderson, turning to look at Beni. "I swear to you, Beni, I'll kill that bastard dead."

"You are lucky I am here, my friend," said Beni. "I happen to know who ran over your wife."

"Ya do?" Henderson dropped his bottle, letting the few remaining drops spill on the floor, and grabbed Beni by the collar. "Gimme his name! Who killed my wife?"

It took all of Beni's power to keep from smirking as the lie rolled off his tongue. "His name is Jonathan Carnahan."


	20. When trouble was brewing

Rick woke up in the morning feeling like the previous day had been some strange, twisted nightmare, and that when a new day arrived the dark clouds would part and the sinister fog would roll away, leaving behind an ordinary world untouched by wicked deeds. But no, the nightmare had been real, and when Rick looked out his bedroom window he saw photographers, reporters, and neighbors heading up the street in mystified pairs and small groups, unable to stay away from the mansion next door. The mansion that Rick would always think of as Jonathan Carnahan's, though Lucy had told him the truth. The mansion that would never blaze again with a thousand lights, beckoning people near and far to an array of extravagant delights. The mansion that stood monument to a great tragedy that lured people the way Jonathan's parties once attracted a wild, laughing crowd.

It was hard to make out the scene in the distance, but Rick thought he saw a neighbor boy leading two of his friends around the corner of the house where the pool was located, and he turned away from the window. He couldn't watch anymore. He couldn't shake the memory of the gruesome sight he found the day before, or the frightening look that came into Lucy's eyes when she learned what had happened to the vibrant, carefree man she had loved.

Yesterday afternoon began to fade into early evening when Rick heard the unmistakeable sound of gunshots. He knew that sound as surely as he knew his own name and he tensed in his seat, shooting an anxious look at Lucy. She sat on his living room sofa, flipping through the pages of an old catalogue, no longer the distraught woman who had shown up on his doorstep in tears. She looked up from the catalogue in her lap, her lovely face filled with a quiet sadness that drove an invisible knife through Rick's heart, and asked:

"Something wrong?"

Rick couldn't lie to her. "Gunshots."

" _Outside?_ "

"Yeah. I'm gonna go take a look."

If Rick had the chance to do it all over again, he probably would have made the same decision. He probably would have still gone out to investigate, knowing what he knew now, because he couldn't sit idly by when trouble was brewing. He couldn't ignore a thing like gunshots, not when so much turmoil had happened already, and so he strapped on an extra pistol and headed next door, hoping for the best and prepared for the worst.

Nothing could prepare him for the sight of Jonathan's body floating motionless in the pool, a red stain spreading across his chest like spilled wine. Nothing could prepare him for Henderson seated on the ground with a gun in his hand, muttering to himself that his Violet had been avenged.

The hour that followed was a whirl of policemen, surprise, and horror that surrounded the innocent poolside where Rick, Lucy, and Jonathan had chatted over iced tea not long before. Lucy was numb with shock when she heard the news, but she didn't cry, as if all her tears had been used up and she lacked the will to produce more. She simply clung to Rick, telling him over and over again that she was a fool, and that she should have run away with Jonathan when she had the chance.

"Oh, but why would anyone do such a thing?" she demanded, hysteria creeping into her voice like a poison. "Jonathan never killed that woman. I know he didn't. Who _is_ she anyway?"

"Violet Henderson," Rick told her quietly, knowing she would learn the sordid details sooner or later, and that he had better be the one to tell her. "She was Beni's mistress."

Lucy stiffened in his arms. " _Beni_. I bet _he_ has something to do with this."

"You don't know that for sure."

"But he _could_ , Rick. He _could_."

And nothing Rick said could change her mind. A new day had come, driving the old one away, but nothing could drive away the emptiness that had settled inside Rick and made him wish he could turn back the clock, if only to rescue the two women he cared about the most. Lucy was staying over at Evelyn's apartment, a decision that Rick had made when he remembered that Lucy wasn't the only one who would suffer from Jonathan's death, and he fixed himself a hurried breakfast without bothering to brew a pot of coffee. Coffee could wait that morning. He had to see Evelyn and tell her that he would be there for her, and that he wanted to be a part of her life for as long as she wished it.

A black car came up the road as Rick was finishing breakfast and halted in front of his house. Rick stared out the window, expecting it to start moving again towards the mansion that sat next door, but the driver's door opened and a pair of women's heels stepped out. The heels were followed by the rest of the woman, who moved with a sense of graceful determination that felt wrong on such a bewildered, mixed-up day, and Rick recognized the proud features of Meela Nais. He wasn't surprised to see her, though he was on his guard all the same, and quickly put on his shoulder holsters beneath a thin jacket before Meela reached his house. She only had to make one polite tap upon his door. Rick answered it immediately, his face grim as he stood in his doorway and met her calm, dark eyes.

"What do _you_ want?" he asked.

"Just a moment of your time," said Meela. "Surely that it isn't too much to ask."

"Why are you even here? There are cops crawling all over the place."

She smirked. "I have a lot of power in this city. I can go where I please, do what I wish, and right now I'd like to talk to you."

He held her calculating gaze, trying to guess what would drive this woman to seek him out. He saw no grief in her face, only the beautiful mask that concealed her thoughts and feelings, and at last Rick stepped aside so she could enter his home. She barely glanced around and watched him expectantly, waiting for him to offer her refreshment or a seat in his best chair, but he did neither and stood where he was, towering over her in his tiny front hall. She looked up at him, unfazed.

"So that's your house over there," said Rick, gesturing next door.

"Yes, Mr. O'Connell," said Meela. "That's my house."

"You've got quite a mess on your hands."

"All messes can be swept out of sight. I already told you, I'm untouchable in this city."

"Yeah, I get that. What I _don't_ get is your little arrangement with Jonathan. Why bother to let him live in your mansion?"

"It worked out well for us both, of course. I'm often away on business and need somebody to hold down the fort for me. Jonathan is— _was_ —an invaluable tool. He did a lot of buying and selling for me during those parties of his." Another smirk graced Meela's lips, the smirk of a woman who didn't care about anyone or anything outside of her own cold success. "You know, I was awfully suspicious of you. I thought you were a spy working for one of my rivals, hoping to bring down everything I had worked for."

"I couldn't care less about everything you've worked for," said Rick.

For the first time since he had met her, a flicker of uncertainty showed in Meela's face, but she brushed it aside before it could fully take shape. "I'm glad to hear that," she said. "Though it _is_ a pity about Jonathan. I suppose I misjudged him."

"He didn't kill anyone," Rick said firmly. "He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

He didn't know why he believed in this so strongly, but Meela's presence only made him more convinced of Jonathan's innocence. The police had questioned Henderson, of course, but the man's sanity had deteriorated after he fired those fateful shots, and nobody could get a word of sense out of him.

"He may have been a drunk and a fool," said Meela, musing to herself out loud, "but he was quite the accomplished thief."

"I'm sorry for your loss," Rick said, the bitter edge of sarcasm tainting his words.

"Don't be," said Meela. She reached into the little black purse that hung from one shoulder and produced a large roll of bills, then pressed them into Rick's hand. "Here. Give this to that sister of his. It's the least I can do."

"She won't want your money," said Rick.

"Then give it to her and say it's from you. I don't care."

Rick closed his fist around the bills and stuffed them into his pocket. "Fine."

Meela stood up straighter, as if a small weight had been lifted from her shoulders, and took a step towards the door. "Perhaps I'll see you around, Mr. O'Connell."

"Perhaps," said Rick.

She turned around and walked out the door, back down the drive to her waiting car, and Rick watched her disappear into the vehicle and drive away. She never halted and traveled past the great, lonely mansion until she vanished from his sight, leaving Rick to stand in his doorway and look to the house next door, which no longer called to him with the old charm and allure that had once been so strong. That part of his life was over.


	21. Before she walked away

Lucy entered her house with dry eyes and a steady heartbeat, still wearing the bright yellow dress that had seen her through so much grief and anguish. She left Evelyn's apartment half an hour ago, shortly after Rick arrived, and before she departed she embraced Evelyn like a sister, feeling much closer to her now that they truly had something in common at last. Evelyn was no longer the aloof, intelligent woman who had looked upon Lucy with a critical eye, but a lost girl who desperately missed her brother. She allowed Lucy to leave early, though she asked her to come back soon, and Lucy made no promises. She knew she wouldn't be able to keep them.

She entered her lovely white house on silent footsteps, feeling light and airy aside from the heavy handbag that thumped against her side. It contained her ticket to freedom, for she had booked passage to America the moment she left Evelyn's place, and as soon as she fetched Gabriel she would be out of Cairo, gone from the city that had given her too many awful memories. She had friends and family in America who might take her in, but she wouldn't starve if they didn't. She couldn't lose her money if she and Beni weren't actually divorced.

She crept up the stairs and into the nursery, where the nursemaid kept watch as Gabriel played with his wooden blocks upon the floor. He was already so smart, building small houses and towers with his toys, and Lucy knelt to the floor so she could drop a kiss upon the top of his head. He looked up at her with light blue eyes, so much like his father's eyes, and Lucy was sorry that she had created such a sweet little boy with such a cruel, horrible man.

"It will be all right now, my darling," she whispered to Gabriel. "I'm taking you away from him."

She rose to her feet and smiled at the nursemaid, as if it were a perfectly normal morning in a perfectly normal, ordinary life. "Agnes, I'm taking Gabriel out for a stroll. Would you get him ready for me, please?"

"Of course, ma'am," said Agnes. She was so lucky, safe and ignorant in a world that concerned the baby and nothing else.

"Wonderful," said Lucy. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

She slipped out of the nursery and down the hall, making her way to the master bedroom. It was still morning, and she knew exactly where Beni liked to spend his idle morning hours. Ever since they were married he had a habit of lying in bed late, simply because he could, as if being lazy was a requirement for the very wealthy. Lucy didn't bother to knock and entered the bedroom, ready to face one final demon before she fled from a life that could no longer imprison her. It was time to say goodbye before she walked away forever. Her traveling trunk still lay upon the floor, her belongings scattered exactly where she left them, and a lump in the bed told her that Beni was still resting, too wrapped up in his own selfish desires to bother cleaning up. She wasn't surprised.

She sat down on the side of the bed, close enough to reach out and touch him on the shoulder. "Beni."

He groaned and rubbed at his eyes, then blinked up at her with a confused expression that rapidly gave way to a smug little grin. "I knew you would be back."

"I didn't have much of a choice," she said. "Jonathan's dead, Beni."

"Oh, yes," he said sadly. "I heard the news. How tragic this must be for you."

"Don't pretend that you care. You're glad he's gone, isn't he?"

"If I am, then I have a right to be. You are my wife, till death do us part."

Lucy scooted a little closer to him, forcing herself to take him by the hand. Touching him made her skin crawl, but she could bear it for just a little while. She could pretend that she still wanted him, that she could forgive him for his sins, knowing that freedom was just around the corner.

"Well I'm here now," she said. "You've won, and I've got nowhere else to go."

"Didn't I tell you I was right, my dear?" he said. He brought himself to a sitting position, still clutching her by the hand, and gave her a satisfied smile. "Didn't I tell you that Carnahan was nothing?"

"Yes," she said softly. "He was a liar, right from the start."

"But I have never lied to you, have I?"

"No." She moved ever closer, making him believe every sweet lie that fell from her lips. "You've always been brutally honest."

He released her hand and put a possessive arm around her, relaxing his grip when she didn't struggle or try to pull away. "Why don't you be a good girl and kiss me, and we will forget that anything ever happened?"

"All right," Lucy whispered.

She straddled his lap and kissed him, thinking of the boat that waited to set sail. She pretended to enjoy his lips against hers, thinking of the wedding ring she had tossed into the street before entering the house, and slipped a hand into the purse she had brought with her. Her fingers brushed against the boat ticket and settled on something colder and more solid, something that she had swiped from Rick's house when Rick wasn't looking, and she held to it tight as she kissed her husband one last time.

Beni pulled away from her, his face lit up in a satisfied grin. "You see? That was not so bad."

"You're right, Beni." She raised the gun and pointed it between his eyes. "Not bad at all."

He gaped at her in shock, frozen with sudden fear as he stared into the barrel of her weapon. "What the hell is this?"

"You're a fool, thinking I could come running back to you," said Lucy, her voice trembling.

"Lucy, you don't know what you're doing." Beni's words came out in a high, breathless whine, and he looked so much like the street rat she remembered that Lucy almost lost her nerve.

"I know exactly what I'm doing."

"I will treat you better from now on, I swear. I will _love_ you, if only you will—"

"Stop it!" Lucy cried. "You had him killed. I know you did!"

"Only because I can't bear to lose you," Beni whimpered. "Please, Lucy, I am your husband. The father of your baby. Think of our little boy!"

"I _have_ been thinking of him," she said, fighting to keep the gun steady in her nervous hands. "Gabriel will be better off without you."

"Then I will go away. I will leave and never bother you again. Please, Lucy, have mercy on me."

She couldn't take his pleading anymore. He was so pathetic, such a slave to his own greed, and she remembered a time when he wasn't so cruel. She remembered a time when he was just a poor pickpocket, using his wits and his quick fingers to survive, and she felt sorry for him then, just as she felt sorry for him now.

Lucy lowered the gun and set it on the bed between them. "There," she said. "You really win this time."

"Thank you, my dear," he said, a cruel smile on his lips.

Beni snatched up the gun, ready to fire at her, and Lucy reacted with a strength she didn't know she had. She slammed into him before he could shoot her, knocking him against the headboard, and she heard a sickening crack as his head struck the wood. The gun rolled out of Beni's limp fingers and Lucy stared at him numbly, gazing into a pair of lifeless eyes that would never see her again.

"Till death do us part," Lucy said softly, feeling faint.

She was free at last.


End file.
